


A Blind Eye

by ringofdoubt



Series: Kinloch Stories [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Blood Magic (Dragon Age), Canon Compliant, Circle of Magi, Copious Amounts of Backstory, F/M, Gen, Kinloch Hold (Dragon Age), M/M, Mages (Dragon Age), Multi, Pre-Broken Circle, Templars (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:21:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 41,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23672986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ringofdoubt/pseuds/ringofdoubt
Summary: Niall’s quiet life in Kinloch Hold depends on ignoring a lot of what the other mages get up to - then he receives a strange invitation from Senior Enchanter Uldred and realises just how much about the tower he's been overlooking
Relationships: Jowan/Lily (Dragon Age), Niall (Dragon Age)/Senior Enchanter Torrin
Series: Kinloch Stories [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1791661
Comments: 42
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a one-shot following Niall around Kinloch Hold but evolved into something much plottier after the first chapter.  
> The fic follows events in the Circle starting a few weeks before Uldred and Wynne leave for Ostagar up until the events of 'Broken Circle'.  
> I've tried my best to make everything canon compliant. Hope you enjoy!

Niall noticed things. He wished he didn’t - but he did. In fact, aside from magic, his uncanny ability to notice things was his most inconvenient gift. If someone was doing something they shouldn’t, somehow Niall always ended up knowing about it. Was it any wonder he sympathised with the isolationists when every mage in this Maker-forsaken tower seemed determined to get up to no good. 

Tonight, he just wanted an evening working on his latest research project. That’s was all – just a quiet night with a book he’d been meaning to get to for a while. Unfortunately, as he approached the Dreaming section at the back of the library, he heard a whisper,

“Shush … careful…” 

It was followed by a barely stifled moan. All Niall’s hopes of an evening reading Adralla of Vyrantium’s ‘A Defense Against Dreamwalkers’ evaporated when he saw two apprentices pushed up against the bookshelves, robes bunched up high, trying and failing to be quiet. 

This was getting ridiculous. It was the third time in as many weeks that he’d come across this sort of thing. He had no one to blame but himself, he should have picked a less obscure area of research. Perhaps a something in elemental magic – that section of the library was always so busy and well-lit. 

He could have cleared his throat loudly enough to alert them to his presence. They’d separate quickly, straightening their robes and scurrying off without making eye contact. He could do that – but he wouldn’t. Instead, without lingering, Niall turned swiftly around and walked back in the opposite direction. He knew all too well how hard it was to find a moment’s privacy in the tower. Sometimes intimacy was the only thing that made life in the tower bearable. He could get his book tomorrow. 

As he left, pretending not to hear anything, Niall wondered whether Irving might have been a bit hasty in suggesting he might be ready to start tutoring apprentices. He smirked - teaching probably require more discipline than he had any right to be doling out. 

-o0o-

He was clearing up the storerooms when he heard a strange noise. His eyes darted around trying to find the source of it and very much hoping it wasn’t some ancient Tevinter artefact come to life to kill him. That really would be all he needed. 

He heard it again, a little louder this time – it sounded like an animal of some kind. 

There was a pile of dusty boxes stacked up beside him. Niall peered over them expecting to see a rat. He shuddered, down there, it was always a rat. Instead, he saw a blond-haired mage crouched down over -

“Is that a cat?” 

The other mage flinched, looking terrified for a second, before it registered that Niall wasn’t a templar and the tension in his body relaxed slightly. He was stroking a small, black cat that looked just as nervous as the mage. 

“I feed him sometimes, don’t I Mr Purrson … Mr Lickers … No, that’s awful,” he looked up at Niall, “Okay, I haven’t settled on a name – this little guy hasn’t been around very long yet, have you?” He went back to fussing the cat and Niall just smiled. 

“I’ll leave you two to it then.” 

Niall carried on cleaning. There was no way he’d ever report anyone for a pet but especially not him – the moment he’d turned around Niall had recognised Anders – Kinloch Hold’s most persistent escape artist was the last person who needed to get into anymore trouble. 

-o0o-

He saw Godwin slip a vial of something into the hand of one of the templars as he passed her in the corridor. It was a split-second interaction that took place at exactly the moment Niall happened to glance up from his book and see it. Typical. It was one of the older templars, she’d been here as least as long as Niall himself had. It didn’t take the biggest deductive leap to work out what was in that vial. 

No wonder Godwin was always so twitchy if he was smuggling lyrium into the tower. Lyrium. Any mage with a brain or any sense of self-preservation knew that getting involved with lyrium smuggling was a very bad idea. 

He brought his fingers to his temples of massaged them. He was going to have to tell Irving. But Godwin was a friend, sort of, at the very least an acquaintance. Plus, if reporting them meant the lyrium supply stopped coming it, that was going to put him on the wrong side of Maker knows how many Templars. The whole thing was going to be a huge headache. 

Although, Niall thought back to his apprenticeship when he and Godwin had shared quarters for a while, he always had a nervous disposition. Maybe it wasn’t what it looked like.  
That moment of rationalisation was all he needed to talk himself out of going to Irving. 

-o0o-

This time Niall had no one but himself to blame because he really was not supposed to be on the third floor, especially not at this time of night. He stopped dead when he saw a figure step out ahead of him and linger.

He assumed whoever it was had been paying that same kind of completely innocent nocturnal visit to a friend as he had. But just to be on the safe side, Niall held his back against the wall of the corridor and waited for whoever it was to leave. Two men uttered a muffled goodbye before one of them left in a haze of purple robes. From the back he couldn’t be entirely sure but it looked like the apprentice was Jowan. He wouldn’t usually have known an apprentice by name but when one casts stonefist so badly an entire section of the library is closed for a day while the Tranquil sweep up the gravel – they tend to be remembered. 

Niall didn’t need to get a look at the other man. He knew that voice all too well – Niall had just seen the apprentice leaving the personal quarters of Senior Enchanter Uldred. Shit.  
Uldred was not well liked. Even Niall, who tried his best to stay out of Circle politics, knew that Uldred had an unpleasant reputation as a zealot. Irving was blind to it, of course. He seemed to think Uldred just happened to be able to root out blood mages where no one else could. Niall wasn’t convinced. Uldred would point the finger at mages who had never so much as been caught summoning a wisp without permission. Templars would ‘investigate’ and behold, they’d find evidence of blood magic. No, there was something off about Uldred – and whatever he was doing with an apprentice in his room – it wouldn’t be anything as mundane as sex.

But what could he do? Niall had no proof of anything sinister except his gut feeling. Plus, if he reported this to anyone he would also have to explain what he was doing up here. He couldn’t explain that without also making trouble for himself and Torrin – which he really did not want to do. 

No, for all he knew, Uldred was just tutoring a struggling apprentice. No need to mention anything. He waited until he was sure the coast was clear before heading back to his quarters, feeling uneasy.


	2. Chapter Two

Niall woke far later in the day than did most mornings. Sleeping in usually meant two things, he’d spend the rest of the day with a dull pain in his head and the library would already be crowded by the time he got there.

He picked up his robes from the heap he had left them in on the floor the night before. That had always driven Godwin mad when they shared their quarters but he’d never managed to convince Niall that creased robes were a pressing issue and so Niall’s bad habit had persisted.

‘A Defence Against Dreamwalkers’ was sitting on the edge of his dresser. It had been an interesting read once he’d managed to go back and liberate it from its place on the misused bookshelf. Unfortunately, there had barely been anything in it with any relevance to his own research – but still, a good read was a good read. Plus, it hadn’t been completely useless – it had briefly mentioned a type of enchanted cowl that amplified mental resistance. He’d made a mental note to check the stockrooms for one.

In truth, he’d spent the last couple of days squirrelled away in his quarters, his nose buried in that tome. Something seemed off in the tower recently and it unnerved him that he didn’t know what or why. That feeling of unease had been simmering for some time then a few nights ago, his midnight not-quite-encounter with the apprentice had only amplified it.

_It was probably nothing._

He reassured himself, abruptly abandoning that train of thought and setting off for the library. He just remembered to grab the book from his dresser as he left.

-o0o-

The library was as busy as he’d expected. He groaned inwardly at the lack of empty desks to work at as he made his way to where he needed to return his book.

“Afternoon, Niall.” he heard someone call to him and he realised he had underestimated just how late he’d slept in.

He turned and saw Enchanter Leorah break into a slight jog for the duration of the few steps it took her to catch up with him.

“Hello there,” he smiled widely. Leorah had always liked him which had come in handy when he was an apprentice failing to turn in his assignments on time. She grinned back at him with a knowing glint in her eye that made Niall slightly nervous. Before he had chance to question her, she blurted out her news.

“I saw the First Enchanter this morning,” she was practically giddy, “I am officially being promoted to Senior Enchanter.”

“That’s wonderful.” he dropped his book down onto a nearby desk, earning him a glare from the red haired mage working there, and pulled her in for a hug. He felt a swell of pride in her – she was a talented mage who just tended to suffer from a lack of confidence.

When they broke apart the glint in her eye was still there,

“There’s more…”

He took her pause to mean she expected him to have guessed what the _more_ was but he had no idea.

“You,” she said, losing faith in his guessing abilities, “I get to recommend someone for promotion to Enchanter and I chose you.”

_Oh Maker’s blasted balls…_

“Woah,” he managed, “I don’t know what to say. Er… thank you. I – you really recommended _me_?”

“Of course, I did.” she beamed. “Anyway, I have to run now or I’ll be late – we’re singing the benedictions in the chapel in – oh dear, right now. Bye, dear. I will try to come find you later.”

By the time she finished her sentence she was already half-way out of the door, leaving Niall standing there dumbfounded. Sure, Irving had mentioned in passing that he might be ready to teach apprentices but he had assumed the man had, at best, just been making polite conversation or at worst, musing about the very distant future.

The problem wouldn’t be the teaching per se - although Niall fully expected he would resent how much that would eat into his research time. No, the problem was the Circle itself. It was hard enough keeping his head down as it was, without beginning the daunting climb up through the Circle’s hierarchy. The idea of having the fraternities vying for him sent a chill through his spine.

Then there was the other thing. The thing that none of the mages ever spoke about or acknowledged even to themselves – all the apprentices who would never become mages.

He thought back to his own days as an apprentice. About a year into his time at the Circle, when Niall was still only a child, Leorah had started teaching his Introduction to Elemental Magic class. Maker, he had been hopeless at it. When all the other apprentices had mastered their Winter’s Grasp, Niall couldn’t even make anyone feel slightly chilly. Instead of chastising him, which had been Enchanter Sweeney’s preferred method of instruction, Leorah had been patient. They had spent hours together, studying one-on-one, Niall sometimes finding tears burning in his eyes that formed from sheer frustration. The day when he’d finally mastered that spell, he’d been so happy that without thinking, he’d run over to Leorah and hugged her as tightly as he could.

Now he was older – Niall knew two things were true. Firstly, without tutors like that, who were willing to pour so much of themselves into teaching, so many more apprentices would fail their harrowing. And secondly, he could never invest so much of himself in the apprentices. He freely admitted to himself that that made him a coward, but it didn’t matter. The thought made his stomach churn. The thought of spending day after day watching those children grow and learn, all the while keeping such a dreadful secret from them – that one day a templar would wake them during the night, lead them to that Maker-forsaken chamber, and –

_No._

He refused to let any memories of the harrowing occupy his thoughts for even a moment. But he did know he needed to speak to the First Enchanter before anything was made official. He was flattered by the recommendation but he could not be promoted to Enchanter, he just couldn’t. 

-o0o-

Niall raised his hand to knock on Irving’s door then paused. There were voices coming from the other side of the door.

“I am afraid that is all we can offer.” the stern voice was unmistakably the First Enchanter’s.

“It simply isn’t good enough.” a muffled woman’s voice followed but it wasn’t one he recognised.

Subconsciously, Niall leant in towards the door to hear better.

“The Ferelden army is vast,” Irving replied, “and I have agreed to send some of the tower’s most experienced mages. You will have more than enough to bolster your forces at Ostagar when the time comes.”

 _Great,_ he thought as his self-awareness suddenly returned, _Now I’m eavesdropping on military strategies – brilliant idea._

Just as he took a step back, intending to return later, the office door swung open. Niall looked down and started adjusting the cord belt of his robes, trying to look as though he hadn’t been listening but most likely convincing no one.

Irving stood in the doorway beside a woman in full heavy armour.

“Ah, Niall, were you coming to speak with me?”

“Yes, First Enchanter.”

“I am afraid I have an appointment imminently. But would you be so kind as to Ser Cauthrien here to our guest quarters.”

“Er – of course.”

“Splendid. You may come and find me later if there was something important you wished to discuss.”

As soon as the woman stepped out of the doorway, Irving closed the door to his office with a little more force than was probably necessary, leaving Niall staring somewhat blankly at her. She was tall and broad shouldered, her imposing presence bolstered by the huge greatsword on her back. Despite living in the tower meaning he was used to the Templars wandering around fully armed, he couldn’t help but feel slightly unnerved by her whole presence.

“I take it you do know where the guest quarters are?” she said, making him acutely aware that he’d just spent far too long silently looking her over.

“Er – yes,” he found his composure, “Yes, of course, follow me.”

They walked in silence as he led her through the tower. She didn’t walk in step with him, instead she lingered a few paces behind. The few times he glanced back to check she was still following, he’d seen her eyes darting around the tower, as though she was taking in as much of it as she could.

“Here you are,” he gestured vaguely around the guest room, “If there’s anything you need just stick your head outside the door, there are always templars roaming around, they’ll sort you out.”

She just nodded in response so Niall turned to leave. But as he did so she asked him,

“Do you know a mage by the name of Wynne?”

“Senior Enchanter Wynne – yes, I do. I mean, everyone knows the Senior Enchanters really.”

The woman’s voice dropped slightly,

“What’s she like?”

Niall felt his eyes go wide, he must have looked like a startled fennec.

“Wynne? She’s -” he took a moment to choose his words carefully, “server.” It wasn’t that he disliked Wynne, not really. It was more that he was ever-so-slightly terrified of her.

“Server, how?” she pressed for more detail and Niall found himself bristling slightly at being questioned so pointedly.

“She’s just not someone I’d want to be on the wrong side of. I skipped benedictions once when I was an apprentice and the dressing down she gave me afterwards still haunts me.”

He’d meant that light-heartedly, as an attempt to break the tension but instead the woman’s face twisted into a slight frown.

“What about Senior Enchanter Uldred?”

Irving’s words from earlier echoed in his mind, _I have agreed to send some of the tower’s most experienced mages_. So – Wynne and Irving must be being sent to fight alongside King Cailin’s army. She must be looking for some kind of reassurance about their skill. He shifted into diplomatic mode,

“Wynne and Uldred are both really powerful mages. Wynne’s a talented healer and I think Uldred specialises in spirit magic.” she was listening to him with an intensity that made him uneasy.

In a second ill-fated attempt to ease the tension he added,

“Although, Uldred’s a lot more likely to chastise you for going to chapel than for skipping it.”

When his joke failed to make her gaze any less piercing, Niall decided it was time he left and headed back in the direction of the library.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda different from the first chapter so I hope the slower pace is okay


	3. Chapter Three

“Welcome to the Circle’s stockroom of magical items. My name is Owain. How may I assist you?” he said in the same chilling monotone that all the tranquil spoke with.

“Hi, Owain,” Niall replied, “I’m looking for a cowl with an enchantment I read about. The catalogues said we had one named ‘ _Toque of the Oblivious’._ I have no idea what that name means but -,” he cut off his own rambling, “Anyway, yes, I want to check if we have that - Please.” he added as an afterthought. It was all too easy to be rude to the tranquil, he made a conscious effort not to be.

“I cannot release the item without a signed permission form from a senior enchanter.”

“Yes, I know. I just need to check if it’s there.”

It was. Buried at the bottom of a storage chest and probably long forgotten about. The research potential had Niall’s mind whirring as he found a space in the library to work. By now Leorah, his impending promotion, the strange Ferelden solider in the tower – all of it had been pushed from his mind as he started to scribble out the first draft of a research proposal.

He knew he had to be careful. Officially, his area of study was _Mental Resistance to Entropy Magic._ What went unspoken though, were the secondary applications of his work – blood magic. That’s what the templars were thinking when they paid extra attention to which books he was reading. That’s what Irving was thinking when he pulled Niall in for twice as many _informal reviews_ as anyone else.

Niall was no blood mage. It wasn’t necessary. Adralla of Vyrantium was said to have studied resistance to blood magic her whole life without ever using it to cast a single spell. But that didn’t stop suspicions falling on him all too frequently.

“Afternoon.”

Niall’s train of thought was interrupted by Senior Enchanter Torrin looming over his desk.

“Hi.” Niall put down his quill, managing to leave an impressive ink smudge over the last thing he’d written.

“I haven’t seen much of you today.” There was an obvious question implied. _Where have you been?_ The Senior Enchanter had a well-earned reputation as a stickler. Not even Niall’s occasional midnight visits to the man’s personal quarters meant he was cut any slack when it came to his work.

“I took a detour to see the First Enchanter.” Niall said, conveniently omitting any reference to having only gotten up at midday. “But -,” he prepared to redeem himself in his supervisor’s eyes, “I think I’ve got something interesting. Actually, I need you to sign this.” Niall shuffled around the various parchments on his desk until he found the stockroom permission form.

Torrin raised an eyebrow, “You know I won’t sign a thing without seeing a research proposal.”

Niall just grinned. He really should have expected that. He felt a pang of pity for the apprentices who were subjected to Torrin’s icy, disapproving glare. That would have petrified him when he was younger. Now though – if he was being honest with himself – Niall quite enjoyed it.

“That’s what I’m working on.”

Torrin gave a slight nod of approval that sent the tiniest, pleasant shiver down Niall’s spine. He decided to take a chance,

“If you like, I could come by tonight and show it to you?” he hoped the blindingly obvious, flirtatious double meaning wasn’t lost on Torrin.

He knew it was a longshot, the other man was not exactly the spontaneous type. Whenever they met up, whether for personal or professional reasons, Torrin always confirmed the time and place at least twice, and at least two days in advance.

“Yes.” he responded quickly enough that Niall suspected if he’d paused, he’d have talked himself out of it.

“Great. I’ll see you later then.”

Niall picked his quill back up but Torrin lingered.

“Aren’t you coming now?” Niall looked blank “to Evening Chant?” he elaborated.

“Oh -,” He should go. He knew he really should go. But he was on a roll with his work. And he really did want to finish it tonight. He’d go tomorrow. “No – I think I’ll stay here.”

With unspoken disapproval, Torrin left and Niall return to his work.

The room dimmed gradually as the candles burnt down around him, but Niall’s concentration didn’t break. Practically the entire tower went to the evening chant and Niall found the eerie stillness of the library strangle appealing. It was part of the reason he skipped it so often, it was the same reason he would sometimes risk wandering around the tower at night – in those moments, he felt as though he were the only man in Thedas.

His isolationist daydream was interrupted when another man strode into the room. A man who was skipping the evening chant for an entirely different set of reasons.

Everyone in the tower could recognise the Senior Enchanters, but as far as Niall knew, Uldred had no reason to recognise him. Which made it all the more disquieting when the mage walked straight over and addressed him by name,

“Evening good, Niall.”

“Evening Uldred, er, Senior Enchanter.”

The right side of the man’s mouth curled into a faint smirk, “Uldred is more than fine.”

“Right. Uldred. Evening.” Niall repeated obediently.

“I was speaking to our Ferelden soldier guest just now. Ser Cauthrien – interesting woman. She mentioned you and she spoke earlier - about me apparently.” his tone was so even it almost mimicked the tranquil. One half Niall’s mind tried to decipher whether Uldred sounded annoyed, while the other half scrambled to recall what it was he’d said to Cauthrien.

“Don’t look so worried, my boy. If anything, I was flattered. Perhaps even grateful. We’ll see about that though.” Niall got the sense that Uldred have veered off into talking more to himself than anything else. 

“I should get on with this.” he gestured vaguely at his work.

“Of course.” Uldred took his leave.

-o0o-

By the time he crossed the final ‘t’ on the final draft of his proposal, Niall was struggling to keep his eyes open. He carefully pushed all his pages into a pile, tied some string around the bundle, blew out his one remaining candle, and finally left the library.

A few hours ago, the prospect of sex had been a pleasant incentive to finish his work. Now – he was too exhausted to muster anything resembling enthusiasm. He knocked three times on Torrin’s door.

“Niall?” Torrin yawned as he opened the door. His eyes were only half open and Niall had just enough energy to make a mental note to take the piss out of the ridiculous night cap he was wearing tomorrow.

“What time is it? I assumed you weren’t coming.” his voice was hoarse.

“Sorry for waking you – I didn’t realise how late it was.”

“Have you been working all night.” Torrin eyed the bundle of parchment tucked under Niall’s arm.

Niall nodded and took a step forward.

“You can’t be serious.” a rare, soft smile appeared on Torrin’s face, “You are going no where except straight to sleep. Although,” he held out his arms, “give me that. I imagine by the time you’ve finally risen tomorrow, I’ll have had chance to look over it.”

Niall made no arguments, just handed over the work – slightly relieved. Trust overworking to the point of exhaustion to be the thing Torrin found endearing.

Niall meandered back but as he reached his quarters something caught his eye. There was a torn piece parchment half-slipped beneath his door. On the ground next to it was the copy of _‘A Defense Against Dreamwalkers_ ’ that he’d returned to the library earlier. Except, he now realised, he hadn’t actually returned it – he’d left it on some desk when he was speaking to Leorah. Chances were, the note was from one of the tranquil librarians asking him to be more careful with the books.

He lit a candle and as his eyes re-adjusted to the light, he tried to decipher what the note said. Whoever had written it, their penmanship needed work.

_I believe you left this in the library. Fascinating subject matter – as is your work. I would very much like to discuss it with you._

_I am holding a small gathering tomorrow night for some friends – you would be most welcome to join us._

_-U_

He flipped the note over to find a scribbled diagram that vaguely resembled a map of the tower. There was location marked on it.

For a few moments, Niall just stared at the note in his hand. He knew it came from Uldred, he didn’t even entertain the idea that it might have been sent by anyone else. Why attached the note to the book? Presumably he’d meant it as some kind of message – but what? Surely Uldred didn’t believe Niall could be dabbling in blood magic?

He sighed. So, it wasn’t enough to constantly overhear the Circle’s nefarious goings-on, now he was being invited to partake in them. He was too tired to think any more about it tonight. He blew out his candle and collapsed onto his bed, falling asleep almost instantly.

-o0o-

By the time Niall made it back to the library the next day, Torrin was already waiting for him.

“I took the liberty of checking out the enchanted cowl already.” Torrin brandished the thing in his hand. Without so much as a ‘Good morning, the man was off. “I booked out a private study room to get started on your plan. Very well-written proposal, I applaud you. Although your spelling is atrocious. But that isn’t a pressing matter right now. Shall we.” Torrin started striding, presumably towards the aforementioned study room. 

Only the senior enchanters were allowed to authorise use of the private rooms, so in that sense Niall was lucky to have Torrin’s enthusiastic support. However, he had a foreboding sense that he was in for quite a trying day. Once he stepped into the study room, he couldn’t see himself leaving until after dark. Not ideal, since he still needed to speak to Irving. On the other hand, it did solve his little Uldred dilemma. He hadn’t seriously been considering going to this ‘gathering’, whatever it was. Except he was afflicted with a morbid curiosity to see what entailed. But no, he was working, he couldn’t go. A problem ignored was a problem solved. It wasn’t even worth mentioning the note to Torrin, he decided, and resolved to think no more about it.

The room he was led to was barely larger than a stock cupboard. In the corner was a small end table holding a rack of lyrium vials surrounded by the familiar soft-blue glow.

Being a mage involved suffering a lot of indignities but none were quite as undignified as the wearing of those hideous enchanted cowls. The one Torrin handed him was no exception. Even the usually stoic senior enchanter had taken one look a Niall with the golden strap around his chin, and bright red conical protrusion on top of his head topped by a cluster of feathers – and barked out a laugh.

“Oh, be quiet,” Niall grumbled, “It’s no worse that your hideous sleeping hat last night with the fluffy bauble on the end.”

Torrin cleared his throat, he found any reference to their nocturnal personal relationship completely inappropriate during working hours. He pointedly ignored Niall’s comment.

“I think I understood your plans from what I read – but do explain it.” 

“Right, well,-“ he took a moment to gather his thoughts. “First thing I need to do is to test the strength of the mental resistance enchantment on the cowl -,”

“Which,” Torrin interrupted, “involves someone – me – hurling entropy spells at you while you try to block them.”

“Essentially, yes.”

It was simple enough. Their next few hours were spent casting various sleeping spells. They started with weak ones, planning on taking painstakingly detailed notes of every spell’s every effect. But it didn’t work because each time their notes said the same thing – _spell ineffective._

Finally, Torrin gulped down an entire vial of lyrium, drawing on his deepest mana reserves and cast the strongest sleep spell he was capable of.

“Still nothing.” Niall said, sounding apologetic for not even feeling the urge to yawn. They were both drained and frustrated at getting nowhere.

“Perhaps you’re natural resistance is already too high – should we switch?”

“I don’t think that’s the problem.” Niall said. He paused, he’d considered this possibility but he’d hoped he wouldn’t have to make the suggestion he was about to.

“We need a stronger spell.”

“No.” Torrin replied immediately, “Anything stronger - those are not spells to use lightly.”

“But we’re not getting anywhere like this.”

“Yes, I’m well aware of that.” he snapped. “Apologies. But no. Entropy magic is dangerous – anything stronger would be-.”

“I’ll be fine. You know what you’re doing.” Niall surprised himself with how certain he sounded. “Horror. Cast it. With the cowl, I’ll resist.”

Torrin looked reluctant but he couldn’t argue that they were going to need something stronger if they wanted to make any progress at all. Feeling guilty, and not quite meeting Niall’s eye, he cast a relatively weak Horror spell.

“Nothing.” said Niall, “You need to go stronger.”

Torrin took the smallest sip of lyrium and tried again, harder this time.

Niall fell to his knees. His breathing quickened as he saw a flash of darkness behind his eyes. But the effects wore off instantaneously and he got back to his feet.

“Right, now we’re getting somewhere.”

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. Again.”

They continued for a while. Gradually increasing the strength of the spell. But as they did, so increased Niall’s ability to resist. By the time they worked up to twice as strong as the spell that had initially sent Niall to his knees - he could barely feel it.

“We need to go stronger.” Niall said.

“I’ll be addled like a retired templar if I drink much more lyrium.” 

“Well a stronger spell then.” He paused, unsure if what he was about to suggest was really the best idea. “What about Waking Nightmare?”

He’d expected the other mage to protest but instead he went silent. Mulling it over. They had been fine with Horror but that was a spell he was practiced with.

“I’ve never cast Waking Nightmare before.”

“But – you could?” Niall pushed tentatively.

“I could.”

“Let’s try it.”

Torrin nodded. They both stood squarely facing each other, an arms distance apart. Niall met his gaze and smiled ever so slightly. He meant it as a reassurance _I trust you._

_There was no darkness this time, only a blinding light and Niall let out a piercing scream as he felt his eyes burn. He felt them melting inside his skull. He couldn’t think. Couldn’t remember where he was. He just knew he needed to get out._

_He saw a Templar appear at the end of his bed. He felt another one grab him from behind and force something into his mouth. Gagging him. He couldn’t breathe. He tried to struggle but he couldn’t move. The templar’s arm was around his neck as the other one grabbed him by the ankles and dragged him onto the floor._

_His whole body felt ice cold. Was he frozen? He tried to move, to kick, but his body wasn’t responding._

_“This is the one that couldn’t even manage casting Winter’s Grasp.”_

_He heard a laugh so loud it made his ears ring as the shrill sound started to echo around the inside of his head._

_“I think we’ll see a head roll tonight, boys.”_

_He struggled harder. Managing to get to his feet. He grasped the dagger in his hand and raised it above his head –_

“Niall!”

Torrin’s scream brought him back to reality. The other mage was gripping his wrist, stopping Niall from plunging a piece of broken glass into him. It took him a second to realise he was bleeding, clutching a shard from a smashed lyrium vial.

“Maker.” Niall’s legs gave out from under him and he collapsed to the floor, “I’m – Torrin, I’m so sorry. I -,” he was shaking violently.

Torrin knelt down next to him, and examined his cut. “It’s me who should be apologising. I shouldn’t have – this was highly – this was dangerous.” He was trying hard to keep his voice steady.

“Did I -,”

“You’re cut doesn’t look to bad. Can you managed to clean it up yourself?” Niall nodded, “Good. I’ll speak to Irving about assigning you a new supervisor. I am very sorry.”

Torrin scarpered out of the door, leaving Niall on the floor. Once the man was out of sight Niall pulled his knees into his chest and let out a sob that wracked through his whole body.

-o0o-

Niall had been sitting on the edge of his bed for hours. He’d stopped shaking by now but he still didn’t feel right. Of course, he knew exactly what he should do. He should drink some herbal tea, think pleasant thoughts, and go to bed. That was the sensible thing to do. But his mind was still racing.

Plus, he also knew what he risked by going to sleep – by dreaming – in this heightened emotional state. He’d be too vulnerable.

Staring at the walls of his quarters would only make it worse. Going back to Torrin would make him look weak – plus the man had left so abruptly Niall had no idea where they stood now. Maker, he needed a drink. A distraction.

Right now, the company of other mages, however dangerous, was preferable to closing his eyes and risking attracting every demon in the vicinity. So, Niall picked up Uldred’s scrawled note and headed to the location it showed.


	4. Chapter Four

He followed Uldred’s scribbled map as best he could. It led him back down to the ground floor and, if he was reading it correctly, to an inconspicuous door close to the storage rooms that Niall was only now realising he had never seen opened before.

His heart lurched when he turned the final corner and found the unmistakable silhouette of an armed templar standing to attention outside the door he was supposed to be going through. They must have gotten word of Uldred’s gathering and broken it up already.

The instinctual panic only lasted a moment before rationality kicked back in and his mind began formulating an innocent explanation for this late-night stroll. _I was working late and got stuck – walking helps clear my head._ It was hardly the most believable excuse but it was just plausible enough that at worst the templar would order him back to bed. Niall made a point to ensure he held himself with a feigned air of confidence and carried on walking in the templar’s direction.

As he got closer he could make out the templar’s face in the darkness. Niall didn’t recognise her, which was odd in itself. She looked young, too young. Her gaze was fixed on the wall opposite her, as though she was purposely refusing to notice Niall’s presence. He began to think he would be allowed to pass by with nothing but a polite nod exchanged between them – then, her eyes fixed on Uldred’s note which he had forgotten he was still clutching.

“I – ,” he opened his mouth to try and formulate some explanation when the templar raised her hand slightly, cutting him off.

Without a word, she turned, took a rusty-looking key off of her belt, and unlocked the door. Slowly, she opened it just wide enough for a person to slip through. A distant murmur of chatter spilled out from the crack in the door. The young templar gestured for Niall to go inside – all the while refraining from making eye contact with him – as though it would somehow incriminate them both.

Niall slinked through the door into a dimly lit, rocky tunnel, the height of which was barely taller than Niall himself. The templar swung the door shut behind him so quickly he had to tug his robe to stop the bottom from getting trapped in the doorframe. Being careful not to hit his head, he followed the sound of conversation down through the tunnels 

He could feel his apprehension building as the noise grew louder. He had assumed he was going to some unsanctioned Libertarian meeting, but the source of this medley of laughter and chatter did not seem likely to be a political discussion group. As for having a templar guarding the entrance – Niall knew Uldred had his loyalists amongst the circle mages, but if he had templars in his pocket too – well Niall wasn’t sure what that might mean, only that it made him uneasy.

At once, he was flooded by light as the shallow tunnel opened up into a vast stony cavern. He had had no idea anything like this existed beyond the door. The whole place was lit up by different coloured glows emitted from wisps, summoned and trapped beneath overturned bell jars that lined the walls. The lights weren’t the only furnishings either – there were old futons, mismatched chairs, a couple of end tables, along with piles and piles of wooden storage boxes built up to act as makeshift partitions, cornering off areas presumably for reasons of privacy.

There had to be at least three, maybe four dozen mages there but even stranger, dotted amongst them, were several templars. The sight was unnatural – whenever mages and templars were in vicinity of each other, there was always an underlying atmosphere of distrust and unease. But apparently not here. Here, they somehow seemed to blend together as one. Almost literally, in the case of Godwin, who Niall noticed sprawled over a futon with a woman on top of him who Niall recognised as the templar he had seen Godwin pass lyrium to a few weeks ago.

Realising he couldn’t just stand there and stare all night – Niall remembered his original reason for venturing here in the first place and began to scan the area for somewhere to get a stiff drink. He didn’t have to look far, there were bottles strewn all over.

One conversation cut through the unintelligible noise as two mages settled close by him,

“Uldred’s getting bolder.” he heard one of them declare to her friend as she took a sip of wine. 

“He knows what he’s doing.” came the curt reply. Niall vaguely recognised both of them although he had no idea who they were beyond that.

“Still,” she gestured vaguely, “there’re a lot of unfamiliar faces around tonight.”

“Hmm,” the other woman’s eyes suddenly fixed on Niall, “speaking of – you’re looking a bit lost, dear.” Niall jolted slightly at being addressed. The woman’s tone was pleasant but beneath her words was a very clear suspicion. He wasn’t sure how best to respond so he went with,

“I got a note – from Uldred.”

That made both of them smile.

“Can I get you something to drink?” the older of the two asked.

“Maker, yes please,” Niall felt some of the tension leave his shoulders, “I don’t suppose there’s any whiskey on offer?”

She chuckled, “You’re best bet for that is Drass,” she pointed out the templar on the far side. He was leaning against the wall listening to an elf playing her lute. “He’s always pleased to find another person willing to burn through their oesophagus with his bootleg firewhiskey.”

“It’s that bad?” Niall raised an eyebrow.

“It goes down like a fireball.”

They smiled at him again then returned to their own conversation, leaving Niall with no option but to stroll up to a templar and ask him for a glass a whiskey. The whole thing felt like he was inside a fever dream as he approached Drass.

“…..ir tela las ir Fen halaaaaan… - ” Drass sang out in an off-key baritone. Niall found himself watching - fascinated. He’d never seen Drass act any way but professionally when he was on duty.

“Almost,” the elf interrupted him. “It’s Fen _halam_ not halan,” she strummed her instrument again and sang, “Ir tela las ir Fen halam, vir am’tela’elvahen.”

“Beautiful.” Drass began to clap and Niall started to suspect from the state of him that there might not be any whiskey left, “What does it mean?”

The considerably more sober elf seemed amused, “It’s a lullaby my mother sang back in the alienage. That last line was, ‘ _when the Wolf won, we lost the People to war’…_ I think.”

Their conversation was halted when they noticed Niall lingering,

“They told me you were the man to ask for whiskey?” his voice came out like he was asking permission to check out a book from the restricted section of the library.

Drass cried out an excited ‘ _AH-HA’_ and slapped Niall on the back, “Brave man!” he said, grabbing an empty glass from a nearby table and pouring a suspiciously thick brown whiskey which he then handed to Niall. He drank it down in one, coughing when he swallowed and felt it scorch the back of his throat, even though he couldn’t claim he hadn’t been warned. Drass laughed and immediately refilled Niall’s glass for him.

“This young lady was just teaching me a song.” Drass bellowed and the elf gave a shy, slightly apologetic smile. He didn’t recognise her face at all.

“I don’t think we’ve met, have we?” he offered his hand, “I’m Niall.”

She shook it and smiled, which he took to mean no, they hadn’t met.

“Nedor,” she said, “one of Uldred’s apprentices.”

Ah – that explained it, at least. It also made Niall realise he was yet to lay eyes on their host. He realised he should probably look for Uldred – the man must have invited him for a reason after all. Plus, it would give him an excuse to escape before Drass’ crooning recommenced.

“Pleasure,” he smiled at her, “and speaking of Uldred – is he here?”

“Right over there.” she pointed to a huddle of people all with their eyes fixated on one man – Uldred. Uldred had his back to Niall, one arm was gesticulating as he spoke and the other was draped possessively over the shoulder of a smaller man with shaggy black hair.

Niall knocked back his second drink, this time managing not to splutter as he swallowed.

“One more for the road?” he held his glass up for Drass to fill for the third time, then made his way over to Uldred.

“That’s the thing though,” Niall got close enough to hear what Uldred was saying and took a place amongst his audience, “They called him _unskilled,_ his spell-work was too _messy –_ but did it occur to them teach him how to _control_ how much mana he exerted per spell? No – of course not.”

There were nods and murmurs of agreement and Uldred tightened his arm around the shorter man and Niall suddenly realised who it was. Jowan – the apprentice he’d seen leaving Uldred’s personal quarters. Jowan’s face flushed slightly as Uldred carried on,

“That was all the problem was – if you release too much mana for a simple Stone Fist spell, the stone breaks up into gravel. It certainly does not mark an apprentice as a lost cause. On the contrary, Jowan here has a lot of potential.”

There was another outbreak of nodding as Uldred paused while another mage began to pour a round of wine. Jowan looked as though he wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or embarrassed. It was only then that Uldred seemed to notice Niall.

“Niall,” being the object of Uldred’s focus was immediately disconcerting - his tone was friendly but that didn’t cancel out the intensity of his gaze, “Glad you got my little invitation.”

“I did – I was er – surprised to find it.”

Uldred laughed and pulled his arm off Jowan’s shoulder.

“I’m sure you were.” The rest of his group had started talking amongst themselves and Uldred moved off to the side to sit down, gesturing for Niall to join him.

“You look uneasy.” Uldred said, but with a subtle smirk that suggested he would have been disappointed if that hadn’t been the case.

“This place is … I had no idea… “

Another flash of satisfaction appeared across Uldred’s face,

“It’s my little sanctuary.” he explained, “Back when I was newly harrowed mage, I had a mentor who kept his supplies down here. We started using it as a private workspace. This was decades ago – nowadays no one seems to remember it was ever here apart from me - and anyone I chose to invite in.”

Niall got the feeling Uldred considered his invitations an honour for the recipients. Which, if anything, made his own invite even more confusing.

“In your note, you mentioned an interest in my research?”

“Ah, yes,” Uldred took a delicate sip of wine. For a man with such an intimidating presence there was an unexpected grace to the way he moved, “You’re expertise is in mental resistance, yes?”

Niall nodded, although he felt ‘ _expertise’_ was a generous word for it.

“Fascinating area – one I fear I’ve neglected in my own studies. My focus skews towards combat magic – more offensive than defensive.”

“I suppose we all have our weaknesses – I’m appalling with elemental spells.” he wasn’t sure why he said that – he felt like he was missing something, some nuance the Senior Enchanter was trying to convey.

“Quite – no mage is an expert in all things, as much as we would surely like to be. But still, I would like to know more. Would you be amenable to my joining yourself and Senior Enchanter Torrin for your next session?” then Uldred barred his yellowed teeth in an unsettling grin, “Next _experiment_ session, that is.”

Niall’s eyes went wide. As far as he had been aware, no one knew he and Torrin were sleeping together. No one. So how did Uldred? He wracked his brain for any other possible interpretation of the man’s last comment but drew a blank. He must know. Not that it mattered if he did? The man was hosting an alcohol fuelled party in a hidden cavern, he was hardly going to report Torrin, surely? As his thoughts spun out Niall almost forgot to answer the actual question – which was confusing enough in itself. What would Uldred have to gain from involving himself in Niall’s work? Niall found his thoughts turning again to the disaster that had been their session that afternoon and shuddering slightly. He knocked back the rest of his drink.

“Another?” Uldred asked without missing a beat. Without waiting for an answer, he caught the eye of someone with a bottle and pointed to Niall’s empty glass.

“Thanks,” Niall said to the mage obediently pouring an unknown clear liquor into his glass. Then he turned his attention back to Uldred, the brief respite having allowed him to regain composure. The effects of the alcohol must have been kicking in because his wits were not as sharp as he was used to.

“You’re welcome to join. Although, today’s session very much did not go well.”

“Mmm,” Uldred murmured in agreement, “Yes, I ran into your tutor a few hours ago – he seemed in low spirits about the whole thing.” Niall bristled, disliking the idea of Torrin discussing his failure with Uldred, or with anyone for that matter.

“Anyway,” Uldred continued, “let’s not spend the whole evening discussing work – I should circulate.” he stood up, “Enjoy the party, Niall.” and with that he headed back into the crowd.

Niall stayed seated on the futon, the upholstery left a lot to be desired, the thing had been ripped and re-sewed more than once by the look of it. But he had a seat and a drink and that was all he really needed. He lent back, content just to people-watch as he mulled over his interaction with Uldred. That was – until woman’s shout rang out from behind the stack of boxes beside him.

No one seemed to pay it any attention though.

Another breathy shout and Niall realised exactly what it was he was hearing.

It was confirmed a few seconds later, when the woman stumbled out looking dishevelled. Sheepishly, she smoothed down her hair and scuttled away. She was followed by a man pulling his tunic back over his head. Niall couldn’t help but stare at him – he could see the outline of the man’s every bone through his skin. His torso was covered in partially heeled scars and there was a deep purple bruise spread all across the front of his left shoulder. When the man looked up, Niall recognised Anders – the tower’s resident escape artist. Last time he’d escaped, he’d been gone over a year. Niall had no idea how they’d finally found him after so long.

“You,” Anders smiled at Niall, still trying to straighten out his tunic with no hint of embarrassment about what he’d just been doing, “You’re the one who caught me feeding my cats the other week.”

“Niall.” he offered.

“Of course. So, Niall, who do I see around here if I want some quality brandy – preferably in a very large quantity?”

“No idea I’m afraid. I’m new to this.”

Anders looked surprised, “You’re the third person tonight who’s said that. Sounds like Uldred’s expanded his usual guest list – must be a special occasion.” 

Before Niall could reply, another elf who looked far too young to be here came running over,

“Anders,” she beamed and threw her arms around him. Niall almost winced out of sympathy, there was no way that hadn’t hurt him but Anders showed no sign of discomfort as he hugged her back.

“I know what you need to do!” the elf squealed when she released him.

Anders laughed, “Are you referring to my little electricity trick?” he winked at her and she blushed. Niall shuddered to think what kind of trick that was.

“Actually,” Anders continued, “I have a new game for tonight, I just need a bowl – the bigger the better. And some brandy, the more the better. And some raisins – but I already have those.”

“Give me one second.” the elf disappeared, then, as good as her word, reappeared almost instantly with a large glass bowl and three bottles of brandy. She may have looked young but she, at least, obviously wasn’t new here.

Anders laid the bowl on the floor then climbed up onto a chair,

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he shouted, grabbing the attention of everyone present, “On my last trip outside these tower walls, I encountered a wonderful drinking game. Gather – all who wish to join me!”

A few of the drunker looking guests huddled around him as he began to explain the rules to what had to be the most ludicrous drinking game in existence. And maybe it was the effect of the whiskey but Niall found himself thinking _by the void, why not,_ and taking his place in the game with half a dozen other recruits.

One hour and three bottles of brandy between them later and Niall couldn’t remember ever being this drunk before. He was sat on the cold stones of the cavern floor, laughing uncontrollably at a joke he wasn’t even sure he’d understood the punchline too. Nedor and another elf were trying to teach some of the others a traditional alienage dance which unfortunately involved a lot of swinging your partner around, which in turn involved a lot of chaotic stumbling – neither of those things were ideal when the dancers were this inebriated. Anders was lying with his head in the lap of another mage listing potential names for hypothetical cats. All around them the mages and templars were still laughing and drinking and every lingering memory of Niall’s bad day had been washed away by a sea of brandy.

His languid daze was interrupted by the sound of a something metal clinking against a glass. He swivelled around to see Uldred standing straight, waiting to address his guests. He waited calmly until every conversation had stopped and everyone’s attention was fixed firmly on him. Then he began to speak,

“My friends, I want to thank you for joining me tonight. Especially, my new friends – who I trust will be as discrete about the existence of our sanctuary here as we are.” his pause there was only brief but it managed to serve as a warning.

“It’s certainly been a memorable evening,” that earned him a laugh as a few people turned to look at Anders, “I am sure most of you know by now that this may be the last of these gatherings for some time. For those of you who haven’t heard, Irving has all but confirmed that I will be one of the mages sent by the Circle to fight alongside the King’s army at Ostagar.”

Murmuring broke out loud enough that Niall was sure not many people present had known that. Uldred held up his hand and silence fell immediately.

“Living isolated in the Circle, it’s easy for us to overlook how turbulent the times we are living in are. But chaos is often what is needed to precede change. In the coming months, I believe I will be more grateful than ever for your friendship and your loyalty.”

“As mages, we are expected to spend our days with our heads down. It is the easiest way to survive. They keep us surrounded by templars but worse, by the tranquil who are there to remind us constantly of the fate that awaits us if we dare to speak up openly. But it is a trick – stay subservient and you will not be made tranquil? Lies! Because if you spend your whole life passive, keeping your head down, showing blind obedience to chantry orders, then tell me, have you not become tranquil anyway?”

Mutterings of agreement echoed around the cavern.

“The life of a mage should not merely be a choice between losing yourself in an instant up in that harrowing chamber – or losing yourself slowly, more and more, over years until there’s nothing left. That is why we continue to gather, to laugh, to drink, to live our lives in defiance of the tyranny of our situation. Because as I look around, I see no tranquil here tonight.”

-o0o-

The crowd had dispersed soon after Uldred’s speech and Niall’s head finally hit his pillow just before the sun began to rise. As he drifted off to sleep, Uldred’s words echoed in his mind. He didn’t behave like a tranquil, did he? He wasn’t rebellious but that wasn’t the same thing as blind obedience? He didn’t feel like he lived in fear. But then, if Uldred was wrong – why had he felt more alive tonight than he could ever remember feeling? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so, Uldred finally showed up - would be interested to know what people thought of him here. I figured since he was the leader of a rebel faction of mages, he must have had some kind of network of allies and he must have been pretty charismatic ??? Idk 
> 
> Also, alas, I finally ran out of random named side-characters to use and had to name an OC which I wanted to avoid doing but oh well, I guess it was inevitable I'd have to bust out the 'random dragon age elf name generator' at some point.


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some vague references to abuse/violence in this one

While he slept, Niall had been murdered. Smacked over the head with a dwarven maul. At least, that was the immediate explanation he thought of to account for the splitting headache he had woken up with. It took him a few moments to reassess the situation and decipher the real cause of the headache - he was finding out the hard way that brandy was not his drink. 

He made a valiant attempt to open his eyes and face the daylight streaming in through his window. As a newly harrowed mage, when he had first be assigned to these quarters, he had been pleased to have his own window – most mages’ rooms didn’t have them. Now, he couldn’t think of anything worse that the aggressive yellow beam of light trying to burn out his eyes. He groaned and wrenched himself out of bed.

He pottered around, getting washed and dressed, until his nausea subsided, at which point he could stop feeling sorry for himself long enough to recall memories of the night before. Was he part of some sort of secret club now? Uldred’s inner circle? That was – not good? Or maybe it was? Either way, he had a more immediate issue to contemplate.

He glanced over at the pile of dirty robes that he hadn’t gotten around to washing in the far corner of his room. He glanced down at the robes he had fallen asleep wearing, wrinkled and thick with the stench of alcohol. Those were his options of outfit for the day. A day in which he had to go and speak with the First Enchanter. Great.

He settled on a brandy-soaked ensemble. Given that the purpose of his meeting was to convince Irving not to promote him to Enchanter, it may even work in his favour.

-o0o-

“Come in.” Irving beckoned. As usually, he wasn’t sat at his desk. Niall was sure he had never once seen Irving actually sit down. Instead, he had his back to the door, searching for something on his bookshelves.

“Good afternoon, First Enchanter.” Irving turned.

“G – Ah, are you quite alright, child? You are awfully pale.”

“Just a bit overtired, that’s all.” he smiled and that seemed to be enough of an explanation for Irving.

“What was it you wanted to see me about?” he asked in his usual droning timbre.

“Enchanter Leorah -”

“Ah,” Irving smiled knowingly, cutting Niall off before he could elaborate, “You mean Senior Enchanter Leorah. Who know doubt mentioned to you who she had suggested as her successor?”

“Well that’s the thing – she did mention it. And – I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”

Irving quirked an eyebrow, he looked genuinely surprised by Niall’s announcement.

“Why ever not?”

He froze. The sickening lurch his stomach gave when Leorah had first told him was all the reason he needed to want to turn the position down. But a general, ineffable sense of unease at the thought of rising through the Circle’s ranks, at gradually becoming responsible for upholding practices he could barely bring himself to think about – how could he explain any of that to the First Enchanter?

“I’m just – not sure I’m cut out to be teaching.” It sounded weak even to him. Irving gave an amused shake of his head.

“How can you know that – you’ve never tried.” He didn’t give Niall a chance to respond, “Senior Enchanter Wynne has her Intermediate Spirit Magic class this afternoon., I think you should assist her.”

He would have protested, but he knew it wasn’t a request. Niall gave a resigned nod and turned to leave. 

“It’s the last class before sundown so,” Irving looked him up and down, “It should give you time to attend to your laundry, Enchanter Niall.”

Niall didn’t respond. He felt annoyed with himself for assuming Irving would listen to him. 

-o0o-

A few hours and a clean robe later and Niall was standing at the front of Wynne’s classroom. He looked out at rows and rows of empty desks, trying not to be too terrified that in a few moments they’d be filled with wide-eyed apprentices expecting him to have something of value to say.

Wynne was walking up and down the classroom, placing a sheet of parchment covered in intricate diagrams on each desk.

“Could I get one of those?” he asked her, feeling very much like the same scared little boy who’d sat in this very classroom years ago.

She handed him a sheet, “Of course, I suppose Irving did not give you much chance to prepare for the class. But the notes are simple enough to follow.”

“Thank you.” he looked it over. Her hand drawn diagrams made absolutely no sense. But the heading told him they were studying the Mana Drain spell, which, thank the Maker, was easy enough. 

Right on time, the students filed into the room, one by one, in silence, and took their seats.

“Good Afternoon, everyone.” she said and the class replied in unison.

Wynne did not bother to introduce him before she set off teaching which meant he was left just standing there at the front, staring at the apprentices who quickly went from looking confused by his presence to ignoring him completely. He was about as useful as the decorate wall-hanging behind him.

“…. which is why it is not necessarily a case of proximity to your target as it is focus…” Niall’s mind had wondered somewhere far away since Wynne had started talking. He was thinking about the last time he’d sat in this classroom as an apprentice - his Elemental Magic theory exam. He only focused back in on Wynne when he heard his name, “… Enchanter Niall and I will demonstrate.”

_Enchanter Niall,_ he thought, _word travels fast._

She gestured for him to come forward, when he did Wynne took him gently by the shoulders and manoeuvred him to the position she wanted in front of her desk. He’d apparently been promoted from decoration to prop.

She produced an old, splintered staff handed it to him. As ridiculous as it sounded, it hadn’t occurred to him to bring his own. He wasn’t in the habit of carrying it around the tower with him – it was very rare that he used a spell complicated enough that he needed the thing.

“Now,” Wynne said with her unique air of authority, “Enchanter Niall, would you be so kind as to cast Winter’s Grasp on -,” she picked up the potted plant from her desk, “this dawn lotus. Using the proper staff-wielding technique, please.”

He did as he was told, though the spell felt awkward with the unfamiliar staff. Crystals of ice encased the lotus and froze it solid. The magic lingered only for a few seconds before melting away, leaving the plant unharmed.

“Good,” Wynne continued, “Now, Niall will try to cast it again – only this time I will counter him with Mana Drain.” She nodded slightly to him and he took that as his cue. He tried to summon his mana but all he felt a heaviness in his legs and feet as something prevented his magic from surging through his body. It was an uncomfortable feeling, as though for a second he was able unable to touch the fade.

“Good.” Wynne repeated, “Now of course, this is a controlled scenario. Using the spell in a confrontation would likely be much less effective. Can anyone give me a reason why?”

Several tentative hands were raised. Wynne fielded several questions and a comment from one smug girl at the back who pointed out Niall hadn’t performed the correct staff movements for a Winter’s Grasp. He prickled with irritation when Wynne praised her for having noticed his mistake.

Once the class was finally over and the students had filed out, Wynne turned her attention back to him,

“I have next week’s lesson plan for you in my desk. You aren’t obligated to follow it word for word of course, but I would appreciate if you at least stuck to the main outline. I had been working to a curriculum -,”

“Sorry,” Niall interrupted, “I’m giving next week’s lesson?”

Wynne looked at him like he was being deliberately dense,

“Yes. You’re to take over the class when I leave for Ostagar. Surely Irving explained that?”

“I – No, no he didn’t.”

“I see. Well, you know now.” she produced a folder from her desk and thrust it into his arms, “Everything you need should be in here. Do make sure you brush up on standard staff technique too. I know most mages adapt it to their own style but it’s important the apprentices learn the standard form first -,”

“Sorry,” he repeated, not quite processing what he’d been told, “I’m going to teaching Intermediate Spirit Magic? When was this decided?”

“Irving told me the day before yesterday.” she sounded mildly irritated, “If you have any questions, find me before I leave for Ostagar. Right now, I have to rush off or I’ll be late for chapel.”

It took him a moment to identify the feeling welling up inside him as anger. Two days ago? Irving had promoted him and assigned him classes without so much as the courtesy of a meeting. It was frustrating. He wasn’t naïve, he knew mages had no say in almost every aspect of their lives, if Irving wanted him to teach then Niall had no choice but to do it. What annoyed him about this was it would have been so easy for Irving to be up front with him this morning. Niall had been there, in his office, he could at least have explained his decision, pretending to care what Niall thought about it. Instead, Irving had chosen to send him into the classroom blind, and he’d spent the hour feeling guilty for being ill-prepared.

Niall was a skilled mage, he never caused trouble - had he not earned the right to be treated with more respect than this? Suddenly, he noticed Uldred’s words had begun, unconsciously, to surface in his mind.

_As mages, we are expected to spend our days with our heads down… to show blind obedience…_

Niall took a breath and mentally began to count down the ages.

_Divine, Glory, Towers, Black…._

It was a technique he remembered his mother teaching him when he was very young, to calm himself down when he got upset. It was something he had done so often that he now did it automatically whenever he felt a surge of emotion. It always worked - by the time he reached _Dragon_ he felt less inclined march into Irving’s office hurling fireballs. He knew there was no point getting wound up – what was done was done.

Going to the library seemed like his best shot at salvaging the miserable day. He might be over-tired, nauseous, pissed off and mildly humiliated – but the day wouldn’t be a total bust if he could get some research done this evening.

When he got to his usual spot Uldred was there – leisurely packing away bits of equipment.

“Evening. Been teaching?” Niall said causally before it occurred to him that maybe he shouldn’t have done. How friendly should he be to a man with whom he’s only communicated via secret notes and secret gatherings? Thankfully, Uldred didn’t seem to mind Niall’s familiarity.

“Sort of – I was tutoring. Unfortunately my latest protégé –“ that last word dripped with sarcasm, “refuses to skip a chantry service.”

“Jowan?” it slipped out before Niall could stop himself because Uldred’s relationship with that particular apprentice had been a point of curiosity for Niall for a sometime.

“Yes.” Uldred’s voice gave nothing away but he was running his eyes over Niall now, “You’re not a chantry-going man then? This isn’t the first time I’ve seen you here when the rest of the tower is in the chapel.” Niall got the distinct impression he was being weighed up.

“I go sometimes. I suppose I’m slightly apathetic about the whole Andraste thing. She can’t compete with a rare moment peace and quiet in the library.” That earned an amused exhale from Uldred that Niall chose to interpret as a laugh.

“Apathy, that’s certainly one way to view the force that keeps you locked in a tower all your life.” His words were harsh but his tone wasn’t. For someone as practiced at heresy as Uldred, the words rolled off the tongue without any extra oratorical effort needed. If anything, he sounded amused.

“Anything else in either direction just seems like a waste of time to me.” it was true that Niall gave the Chantry remarkably little thought. The tower was littered with giant statues of Andraste – even some of the larger personal quarters came equipped with their own stone idols. It was just a part of life, as mundane as any other.

Uldred looked thoughtful,

“I envy you that in some ways. It bothers me – always has done - _’accursed ones’ –_ and we just accept it. Still -,” his wistful tone disappeared as abruptly as it had come, “we resist as best we can. I was glad to see you last night.”

Niall had presumed he wasn’t supposed to mention the previous night. It was jarring having Uldred reference it so casually – even if there was no one else within earshot.

He was about to thank Uldred for the invitation, only he stopped, realising he wasn’t sure whether or not he was thankful. He settled for,

“I think I overdid it slightly on the brandy.”

“Ha – not quite so much as Anders, I had to get Jowan to help me carry him back to his quarters. I’m sure he woke up with quite the headache to reckon with. Still, I can’t say I blame him for needing a little escapism after everything he’s been through.”

Niall wasn’t sure what Uldred was referring to. He only knew Anders had spent a whole year outside the tower before the templars had finally caught up with him. One rumour had it he’d been in Denerim. Another said he’d gotten all the way to the Free Marches.

“Did something happen to him while he was away from the tower?”

For the second time that day, a senior enchanter was staring at Niall as though he was completely dense.

“The man was locked in solitary confinement for a year.” Uldred’s face twisted in disgust.

“I – I had no idea.”

“Remember that templar who disappeared a few months back – the tall one? He was one of Anders’ guards, liked to toy with him. Then one day, he took it a bit too far. From what Irving said, the only reason Anders didn’t end up dead on the floor of his cell was his own skill with healing spells.

As Uldred spoke Niall felt sick. An image from the night before came back to him – Anders’ back covered in deep, red scars that hadn’t quite healed over.

“Maker’s breath.” was all he managed to say.

“Greagoir had the templar transferred to another Circle. He beat a man almost to death and all he got was a transfer. But _we’re_ the accursed ones.”

Uldred turned his attention back to tidying his supplies – casually placing extracts of cinnabar into a small box as though the story he had just told was unremarkable, an everyday occurrence. Niall felt numb as he contemplated the possibility that maybe it _was._ Once Uldred finished he turned around to see Niall hadn’t moved.

“Er – if you’re free right now, we could look over your research – if you’re still open to sharing it with me?”

“Sorry,” Niall shook his head, “I’m not sure I could focus on that tonight. We could meet here same time tomorrow though?”

“Excellent.” Uldred said and took his leave.

Niall stared vacantly at the nearest bookshelf for a moment, before deciding to return to his quarters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Officially past the 10k words mark, which is mad since this fic was only intended as a oneshot!   
> Uldred and Wynne are off to Ostagar soon and well, all I'll say is I intend for this fic to be as canon compliant as possible  
> Comments are very much appreciated! <3


	6. Chapter Six

The Chant of Light has nine canticles – more if you count the dissonant verses. Niall remembered sitting on the rug at this mother’s feet - she would recite verses from the chant and he would repeat them. They had done that almost every night when he was small, before his magic had manifested and she had proudly handed him over to the Templars.

He missed his mother a lot in those first few years he spent in the Circle. So, every night before bed, he would read and recite part of the Chant. By the age of ten he knew every single line of it by heart. The Revered Mother who delivered the Circle’s chantry services had always liked him because of it. She would smile at him as he filed into the benches with the rest of the apprentices. As she spoke, he would mouth the words along with her. There was something calming in the repetition, the ritual of it all. Then he’d gotten older, and he’d started to understand those words, and calm became the furthest thing from what they made him feel.

But old habits die hard and as the Revered Mother began to speak the words of the Canticle of Threnodies, Niall found himself mouthing along. The words were so familiar that they felt empty – a semantically void string of syllables. He wondered how many people around him were listening to the words being said and how many were just waiting until the Revered Mother finished so they could go for breakfast. It’s hard to focus on the fall of all mankind when you’re yet to have your morning coffee – at least, it was for Niall.

It had been years since he’d made it to a morning service, or been awake early enough to even consider attending. But his conversation with Uldred the day before had unnerved him somewhat. The Chantry used to inspire awe in him – terror and reverence all at once. The idea of being apathetic towards it didn’t sit right with him. After all, whatever his feelings towards the Chantry itself were, he still believed in the Maker. 

_“_ Finally, as always, we conclude,” croaked the Revered Mother when she reached the end of the day’s chosen canticle, “with a recitation of that most important of verses by which those of you in this room are pledged to live.”

She began to speak it and with each syllable more mistimed voices from the congregation chimed in - and that disharmonious chorus sang,

_“Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him._

_Foul and corrupt are they_

_Who have taken His gift_

_And turned it against His children._

_They shall be named Maleficar, accursed ones._

_They shall find no rest in this world_

_Or beyond.”_

It may only be priests, Niall, and the odd zealot who could sing the whole chant but there was not a mage alive in any tower across Thedas who didn’t feel as though that particular verse was etching into their skin and running through their veins like blood.

The Revered Mother dismissed them with the usual benediction, “Walk in the Maker’s light.”

The congregation filed out of the benches as the choir began singing the recessional hymn. They were gathered at the back of the chapel and Niall had almost forgotten they were even there. The choir was an unlikely alliance, made up of mages, templars, and chantry personnel. And above all of those voices, a familiar baritone echoed over the chapel.

Niall turned and saw Torrin heartily belting out the hymn. Niall smiled to himself slightly – whatever Torrin lacked in musicality he made up for with enthusiasm. A less enthusiastic choirboy though was, to Niall’s surprise, Jowan. He was standing on the row behind Torrin and unconvincingly miming the lyrics.

Niall briefly considered that Uldred was attempting to convert the Circle’s most pious to his cause by planting a spy in the choir. Then, he noticed Jowan was standing a little closer than necessary to a very pretty Chantry initiate. That –yes, that made more sense.

Mages were forbidden from fraternising with the initiates. But in the Circle, so much was forbidden that it ceased to mean much to any of them. They were probably in for a bit of heartbreak, Niall thought, but they were young, it was their right to play out an epic romance. He certainly had.

He lingered until most people had left, hoping to catch Torrin. They still hadn’t spoken since their disastrous research session.

“Senior Enchanter.” Niall beckoned.

“Morning.” he said cordially but gave no impression that he wanted to continue the conversation. Niall wasn’t having that.

“Are you free? We should talk-,”

“I have a meeting – you are not my only mentee, Niall.”

That threw him. He thought the man was feeling awkward about what happened – perhaps a bit guilty too because Maker knows Torrin could find something to feel guilty about in any situation. He hadn’t expected outright hostility. 

“I know that – but we should-,”

“I am very busy.” Torrin softened slightly when he saw the look of hurt Niall’s face, “I can meet you this evening.”

“In your quarters?” Niall was confused.

“Yes.”

“Presumably not for -,”

Torrin’s eyes bulged as he shushed frantically, “Maker’s breath, Niall, no.”

“Alight, alright, message received. I’ll come after dark. Strictly for professional reasons.”

Torrin rolled his eyes.

-o0o-

Wynne’s curriculum for Intermediate Spirit Magic was – thorough. Dauntingly thorough. And apparently next week’s lesson was a practical. The apprentices were supposed to brew their own greater spirit balms. There was a slight problem with that.

“You must think I’m an idiot.” Niall groaned but Anders looked sympathetic, “I’m just – I’ve never been much of an alchemist.”

He’d been rooting through an old storage box in the caverns, desperately looking for some ingredient called ‘foxite’ when Anders had wandered by and offered to help. Niall had had to admit he wasn’t even sure what foxite was.

“An idiot – of course not – the Circle would never let an idiot teach.” Anders teased as he pulled a jar labelled ‘Foxite’ from a nearby shelf. 

“We studied all the lesser recipes when I was an apprentice but I never did much beyond those. All these Greater Balms and fancy salves - I’ve never needed them. Have you?”

“I’ve found they come in handy from time to time.”

Niall was too preoccupied to wonder precisely what he meant by that.

“Could you teach me how to make this then?” he thrust Wynne’s recipe at Anders. “Please. I’d rather not end up in Aeonar for exploding a dozen apprentices.”

Anders glanced over the page then nodded, “Sure. I’ll meet you in the potions room once you’ve got the ingredients?”

Niall looked sheepish, “Ah – could we do it here? I’d rather not risk any of the apprentices clocking the fact their tutor is only one lesson ahead of them.”

-o0o-

“Leorah!” Niall called. He was carrying his barely-used cauldron filled with the ingredients he’d spent the last two hours hunting down.

She beamed when she saw him, “Hello there, _Enchanter_.”

He did his best to look happy about the new title she was still so pleased she’d helped him get. “I have a favour to ask…”

Niall explained his situation, “ … so, I was hoping, since you’re in charge of the caverns, could you keep them locked while we’re in there? Just to preserve my stellar reputation?”

“I’m not sure-,”

“Just for an hour or two.” he added.

“Alright. I’m working in here anyway – I’ll tell anyone who comes by they’re closed for stock taking all afternoon.”

“You are wonderful.” she blushed and Niall pulled her in for a one-armed hug before heading into the cavern to wait for Anders.

He wasn’t waiting long before the other came around the corner, his own rusty-looking cauldron under his arm.

“I really can’t thank you enough for this.” Niall said and really meant it. As he watched him potter about setting the equipment up on the straightest patch of uneven stone floor - the things Uldred had said last night repeated in his mind. Anders had been through the unimaginable and yet he seemed so breezy, lining up spirit shards as though didn’t have a single worry. It had to be a front but it was certainly a convincing one.

Anders reached behind his head and pulled his long hair into a loose bun. Niall noted that it framed his face quite flatteringly. Anders may be a lanky blond mess of skin and bone but he was hansom in his own way. He shook himself out of that train of thought very quickly and refocused on the task at hand.

They set to work brewing. Niall fixed his cauldron over its stand and Anders set a small fire beneath it. Everything went smoothly until Niall added a faulty distillation agent and sent purple sparks flying into the air.

Anders laughed at the look a pure shock on Niall’s face, “The power wasn’t dried properly.” he took the rest of it from Niall and demonstrated what needed to be done.

“You’re good at this.”

“I’m average at this – you’re terrible. Thank the Maker you’re pretty, at least.”

Niall laughed. 

“How did you end up having to teach this, anyway?”

“You know how it goes – Irving decreed it and around here that’s means the Maker himself may well have ordered it.” he was still bitter.

“I don’t think the Maker has to answer to the Knight-Commander though.”

“Ha – the way Greagoir struts around, I’m not so sure.” 

Anders snickered and turned his attention back to the cauldron.

Half an hour and a few more spoiled attempts later and Niall had managed to produce a viable balm.

“It just needs to simmer long enough to thicken and you’re done.”

Niall couldn’t help but feel a flicker of pride as he watched the violet coloured concoction calmly bubbling away.

“How long does that take?”

“Can be up to an hour.”

“You don’t have to wait with me.”

“Actually,” Anders glanced around, “Do you mind if I do – this might be the longest I’ve gone in years without a templar’s beady eye on me.”

Niall understood what he meant. “I suppose it is peaceful in here, the cave has a cold-and-damp kind of charm to it.” 

Anders moved off to the side and sat down on the closest thing the cave had to a seat – a heap of hessian sacks piled up in the corner. He patted the space next to him and Niall took the invitation to sit down.

“They get everywhere, the Templars. I half expect one to leap out from one of those storage crates.” Anders paused, “I still can’t believe how many were at Uldred’s little soirée.”

Niall had wondered about that too. It made sense to have a few Templars on side – of course Uldred would have some of them in his pocket. He was an influential man, bribing the occasional guard would be nothing to him. But to actually invite them in, to drink with them, mix with them as though they were all mundanes – it was odd, more than odd.

“That took me by surprise too.” Niall confessed.

“Uldred has a way of gaining people’s loyalty. He claims he recruits people to the Libertarians but he operates like he’s raising his own private army.”

That was the longest Anders had even spoken without cracking a joke, “I didn’t expect you to be embroiled in Circle politics.”

“Oh, I’m not.” he didn’t quite meet Niall’s eye, “I had – a friend – he was involved in all that. He was a Libertarian but he fought constantly with Uldred. Then he got sent to Kirkwall. I sometimes wonder if that was Uldred’s doing.”

“Well – shit.” then Niall thought, “But only Greagoir can make transfers – surely Uldred couldn’t have been involved?”

“I don’t know. I just know I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Niall thought back to how appalled Uldred had sounded last night when he’d described what the templars had put Anders through. It had been so genuine – Niall doubted Uldred would have had any mage sent away - even if he did have that power – especially somewhere with a reputation like Kirkwall’s. Still, he knew nothing about the details, he was just speculating, so he kept his opinions to himself.

“If you don’t trust him – what were you doing at his party?” it wasn’t an accusation, just curiosity.

“I don’t trust him not to flay me alive. I _do_ trust him to provide quality alcohol and a place with a bit more privacy than the back wall of the library.”

“From what I remember overhearing, you made excellent use of that _privacy._ ” Niall joked.

“That I did.” his voice dropped slightly as he ran his eyes over Niall. Then he added, “You know, it’s pretty private here too – would be a shame to waste that.”

Niall took the hint. He leant closer and met Anders in a kiss. He didn’t waste any energy wondering if this was a good idea. With the mood Torrin had been in earlier, this could be his only opportunity in the near future to relieve some tension.

Anders ran his hands underneath Niall’s robe, hitching it up and exposing his skin to the rough cloth they were sat on. They moved frantically against each other, neither of them interested in drawing thing out, both just taking what they needed, focused entirely on their own release.

Afterwards, they lay quietly for a while.

“I wonder why they never have templars patrolling that library back wall?” Anders mused, breaking their companionable silence, “They have to know what goes on there.” 

Niall smirked, “I actually have a theory about that.”

He’d regaled Torrin with this particular theory before but he hadn’t been amused. But Anders looked intrigued.

“I think the Templars are actually instructed to leave us to it. I think if they went around breaking us up – well, that kind of pent-up frustration is a pretty strong emotion. And what do strong emotions attract?”

Anders let out a burst of laughter,

“I can see it now,” he affected an exaggerated professor voice, “The Brahm’s Scale has been the accepted standard of demonic classification since the Towers age. However, a recent proposal by Enchanter Niall of the Ferelden Circle of Magi posits a hereto unknown class of demon – the Horniness Demon.”

“It does make sense though, doesn’t it?” he teased.

“I don’t know,” Anders brought his hand to his chin and pretended to be deep in thought, “I think the Templars are probably just perverts who’d rather watch than break it up.” 

They stayed there a little while longer, making each other laugh until the sound of bubbling from the cauldron welled up enough it became impossible to ignore. They moved to pack up – pouring the balm into a vial and sweeping away the soot left by the flames.

“If Leorah’s willing to guard the door again – we could do this again?” Niall suggested as they were leaving.

“Ah -,” Anders sounded apologetic, “I try to stick to a one-time-only rule.”

Niall laughed, “That’s fine. Actually, I meant more – well, there’s something called a Swift Salve on Wynne’s lesson plan in a few weeks and I’m not even sure what that is.” 

Anders’ face was unreadable as he said, “Yeah – maybe.” he smiled but it seemed forced, “Swift Salve is quite nice actually, smells like peppermint.”

-o0o-

Niall felt somewhat vindicated that he’d been right - becoming an Enchanter had started eating into his research time already. It was almost dusk before he manged to get to the library which only gave him a few minutes to grab some books before Uldred was strolling over to his desk.

“Evening, Niall.”

“Uldred, right on time.” he noted as a few of the mages around them began to leave for the evening service.

Uldred pulled a chair over from another desk and immediately began looking over what Niall had out on his desk. He caught on very quickly, Niall barely needed to talk him through any of it, even the technical details he barely understood himself. He didn’t hesitate to take his own quill to Niall’s work, adding notes in his almost illegible scrawl that solved issues Niall wasn’t even aware the project had. If this was an area Uldred considered his knowledge to be lacking in, Niall was terrified to see what the man thought expertise looked like.

Uldred shifted in his seat and there was a loud metallic clanging sound. He reached down to where he’d accidentally kicked Niall’s cauldron.

He lifted it onto the desk and began rooting through it with such confidence it barely crossed Niall’s mind that that was actually quite intrusive.

“A Spirit Balm?”

“Oh yeah, that’s a long story – it’s Wynne’s fault – nothing to do with this research though.”

Uldred went quiet for a moment, fiddling with the vial in his hand. Then he took a blank piece of parchment and began to sketch a diagram.

He drew a tiny vial then beneath it a cowl, a staff, and gauntlets. Niall marvelled that a man with such atrocious handwriting could draw so well.

“See,” Uldred began explaining, “resistance effects are not strictly cumulative in a simple sense,” he drew some lines between his sketches, “brewing two balms and coating your staff twice doesn’t double the effects – there’s a point of diminishing returns…”

Niall had never seen Uldred so animated as he continued thinking out loud, explaining his ideas like a talking textbook that Niall wasn’t entirely following. There was an urgency to his speech as he mind worked to weave together different threads of magical theory. “ – but resistance effects across different objects also aren’t commutative. That means that -,”

Uldred continued talking and scribbling and gradually Niall began to understand what he was getting at. It was – brilliant. Completely brilliant. Part of Niall had been suspicious about Uldred’s interest in his project, he thought the man had some other agenda, but after this – there was no denying that Uldred was genuinely fascinated by the work.

Niall found himself matching Uldred’s enthusiasm. As the night drew in they spread across three different desks, hopped up on coffee and hopping from book to book.

“Evening, Senior Enchanter.” Uldred’s voice broke Niall out his trance. He looked up to find Torrin standing over them.

“Hey.” Niall grinned, “come see what we’re working on.”

Torrin ran his eyes over the desks until his eyes fixed on a single book in a stack. _Manual: Blood Mage by Anonymous._ He picked it up.

“I think it’s clear what you’re working on.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Niall snapped. He had enough trouble with the Templars accusing him of being a blood mage, he wasn’t going to take that from his own mentor. He couldn’t even remember whether it was him or Uldred who had taken that book off the shelve.

“Torrin,” Uldred’s voice was very calm, “this is a library. We are scholars, not Maleficarum.”

“Come on – let me show you want we’ve found.”

Torrin shook his head, “I wouldn’t want to intrude. Niall – I expect you to keep our appointment tonight. I will see you in my room shortly.”

Torrin skulked away and if Niall wasn’t so annoyed, he would have laughed. For all the man’s paranoia over people finding out they were sleeping together, he really was oblivious to how suspect his parting words sounded.

“Sorry about him.”

“I should be the one apologising,” offered Uldred, “he’s made no secret to me that he’s unhappy about us working together.”

“Well he never mentioned anything to me.”

“Curious. Still – this evening has been productive. Perhaps we should call it a night – it seems you are needed elsewhere.”

They re-shelved their books and cleared a few patches of spilt ink they hadn’t noticed while they were working.

“All this Maleficarum paranoia – the constant suspicion drives me crazy – my pet project isn’t about to bring _doom upon all the world._ ”

Uldred raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry,” Niall said again, “I went to the chantry service this morning. It was your fault actually – what you said last night about apathy.”

“My ramblings pushing someone towards the Chantry – perish the thought.”

Niall snickered, “Well it did me good. Reminded me why I stopped going in the first place.”

“There’s nothing quite as refreshing as starting the day being told your very soul is tainted.”

“Quite – although, your apprentice seemed to find something to enjoy about it.”

“Jowan?”

“Yeah – he looked very friendly with one of the initiates.”

Uldred just gave a grunt in response and Niall got the feeling he’d said something he shouldn’t have.

-o0o-

He was tempted just to go to bed, but in the end Niall went to Torrin’s room anyway. Not going would just have felt petty and he wasn’t the one being petty here. He endured an icy stare from his mentor as they began to talk through Uldred’s notes. The stare started to thaw slightly as Torrin got caught up in the fact the new suggestions were ingenious and forgot to care who they had come from.

By the time they had finished they’d slipped back into their familiar, comfortable rhythm. As Niall started to leave Torrin said,

“I apologise for earlier.”

Niall knew him well enough to know apologising did not come naturally to Torrin, a man chronically convinced he was correct about everything. He appreciated the effort even if his words had come out in a reluctant monotone. 

“You don’t need to worry about me, you know - I’m far too old to be lead astray.” he smiled reassuringly, then pressed a light kiss against Torrin’s cheek as he left.

Niall made his way down the familiar winding corridor but stopped outside Uldred’s door. He could hear voices – arguing.

“I can’t protect you if you’re reckless.” Niall heard Uldred say. Usually Uldred’s voice was calm. Even when he was angry, giving speeches about the templars, injustice, he always sounded controlled, bordering on rehearsed. This was different – he sounded emotional.

Niall couldn’t make out the mumbled response. Then Uldred spoke again,

“Then why was it so blindly obvious to him?”

“I don’t know,” the second voice was louder now, “but I won’t leave her!”

That was Jowan’s voice.

Niall made the snap decision that whatever this was about, it was none of his business and scurried away down the corridor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could actually feel my Catholic upbringing leaking into that first scene haha!  
> Hope this one wasn't too long - I thought about splitting it in two but there's a lot of plot left to get through in the next few chapters  
> Also I accidentally thought up a whole Kanders backstory while I was writing this soooo that may get written sometime in the future....


	7. Chapter Seven

The next morning, Jowan was sitting alone in the dining hall. He was tearing pieces off a bread roll, and staring off into the middle distance. He was clearly upset. But that was none of Niall’s business. Although that, naturally, did not mean that Niall could stop himself from striding over there and sitting down next to him.

He knew it was a bad idea. Whatever was going on between Uldred and his apprentice, Niall knew he should stay out of it. Instead he said,

“You’re supposed to eat that, not just rip it to shreds.”

Jowan looked down at the pile of breadcrumbs he’d accumulated and mumbled an apology. Only then did it occur to Niall that he and Jowan had never actually had a conversation. In fact, their entire relationship before this moment had consisted of Niall’s accidental eavesdropping.

“I don’t mean to bother you,” he tried again, “You just – I noticed you looked upset.”

“Huh, you would. But I’ve had more than enough of your observations.”

“Sorry – I don’t follow you?”

Jowan didn’t bother to explain himself – instead he walked away leaving Niall to wonder what he’d done to offend him.

-o0o-

“Hello stranger.” said a familiar, melodic voice.

Niall looked up from his desk to see his old friend smiling down at him.

“Petra!” he stood immediately and pulled her into a tight hug. Her red hair still had the same light scent of sandalwood. “Maker, when did you get back?”

“Two days ago, but I couldn’t find you – where in the world were you hiding yesterday?”

Niall was grinning from ear to ear.

“How long are you back for?”

“For good.” those two words made his heart swell. She’d been gone so long, he’d almost forgotten how much he missed her.

“They say the Wilds are going to be overrun by darkspawn any day now. Irving ordered Ines’ back to the tower. And thank the Maker – almost two years in a tent, searching for rare plants – no. I was not cut out to be a botanist.”

They found a table and Niall brought over two black coffees. Petra wrapped her hands around the mug and slowly brought it to her lips, savouring the smell.

“Mmm.” she sighed, “You have no idea how much I’ve missed this. I won’t tell you what concoctions Ines’ tried to pass off as tea. I swear one time she just boiled sylvan root in water and gave me that to drink.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust and Niall felt lighter than he had in months.

Niall’s attempt at an early morning start on his research fell completely by the wayside as he and Petra spent the next few hours catching up. They still had the same easy back-and-forth they’d developed back in their apprentice days. 

She told him all about Ines’ eccentricities. One story had him doubled over laughing at the mental image of Ines falling into a stream trying to chase a fennec away with a stick. He told her he’d been promoted to Enchanter. It turned out, so had she. Her new assignment was taking care of the youngest mages in the tower. Niall couldn’t think of anything worse than spending all day every day with five years olds who hadn’t mastered how not to throw out fireballs accidentally. But Petra was excited about it. He also told her about Torrin.

“You’re tutor!” She swotted him on the shoulder, “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised – you do have a thing for beardy, older men.”

“I do not.”

“Oh really,” she quirked an eyebrow, “Have you forgotten about that Enchanter from the White Spire who gave that guest lecture here a few years ago?”

He laughed. He had in fact forgotten all about that.

“Mmm, Enchanter Rhys – he did have a certain rugged appeal.”

“Shame he had exactly zero interest in you.” she teased.

“His loss.”

And so they carried on. Teasing each other mercilessly in that way only old friends can do. Years ago, before their harrowings, before too much of life made both of them wiser – Niall had been so deeply in love with her. In another life - _a mundane life_ , Niall thought - they would have been married, with a couple of children by now. But he didn’t like to dwell on what wasn’t possible. He was just happy to have his friend back again.

-o0o-

He was finally been wrenched from Petra’s side when Uldred had caught him on his way back from lunch. The Senior Enchanter was laden with satchels and the bags under his eyes were a deep purple. He practically dragged Niall into a study room, insisting that they get to work immediately.

“Apologies for the short notice. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t expect you to accommodate my schedule but I think my marching to Ostagar in two days’ time rather justifies the urgency in this case.”

Niall just nodded as he riffled through the notes they’d made the night before. They had the largest study room on the third floor booked for the rest of the day and Niall briefly wondered how Uldred had managed that if this session was so short notice. Uldred dropped his pile of satchels full of supplies in a heap in the corner.

“Should I find Torrin before we start?” Even though he and Niall had reconciled, he didn’t think Torrin would be impressed if he wasn’t told about this.

“He’s teaching this afternoon.” Uldred added casually, “Then I believe it’s his choir practice after that.”

“He doesn’t usually teach at this time?”

“No – he’s generously covering one of my introductory level classes.” Uldred was distracted, only half-listening as he fussed about pulling jars of balms and salves from his satchel and lining them up parallel to the edge of the desk.

Niall hummed a tune to himself as he went about putting on some gauntlets which according to Uldred were _‘twice as good as that useless cowl you tried last time.’_ Maybe if they finished this early enough he could go and find Petra again for a nightcap - just like old times.

“You’re cheerful.” Uldred made it sound like an accusation.

“I am – my friend’s back from -,”

“Well take that chirpy energy and focus it on the task at hand, please. Drink this.” Uldred shoved a vial into Niall’s hand. He knocked back the florescent pink liquid and Uldred turned over an hourglass.

“Maker’s tits – what _was_ that.”

“A diluted version of magebane.”

“The poison?!” Niall gagged, trying to spit it out.

“It’s only mild.” Uldred said flatly. Niall just stared at him, not sure how to respond.

Uldred didn’t seem to pay any attention to Niall’s horrified expression. He pulled out a bundle of papers freshly bound in twine and started talking Niall through the work.

The longer Uldred spoke for the more stunned Niall became. The man must have been up all night working on this. There were pages and pages of equations. Theories written in a manic scrawl that at first glance looked like the scribblings of someone in the later stages of lyrium madness – except it wasn’t madness. It looked - right.

In fact, the longer Niall looked the more sure he was that Uldred was on the cusp of revolutionising the field of Mental Resistance Magic after less than two days. Even drinking the magebane made sense once Uldred had explained it. The poison would diminish his mana but as the effects wore off there’d be a brief overshoot in natural mana production that would cause a boost.

Uldred looked at his hourglass, it’s sands had almost run out. He walked across the room, drew the curtains and with a flick of his wrist, extinguished all the candles in the room.

“Take off your robes.”

Surprise forced a sharp laugh out of Niall,

“Excuse me?”

Uldred pulled a set of green and purple robes from one of his bags.

“Put these on.”

Niall paused awkwardly, not relishing the idea of stripping down in front of Uldred.

“Hurry up.” Uldred barked, nodding his head towards the hourglass, “You need to cast almost immediately when that runs out in order to get the boost from the magebane. These robes were enchanted in Orzammar - with a Paragon dweomer rune. So, strip.”

Niall obeyed.

The green robes were slightly too long in the sleeves and felt distinctly not-his. But he could tell by now that arguing with Uldred about anything would be futile today.

They stood squarely in front of each other, both of them with their eyes fixed on the hourglass. As the last grain of sand ran out, Uldred moved his staff around his head. But instead of casting Horror as they’d agreed – Uldred, knowing full well what happened last time, cast a Waking Nightmare spell over Niall.

_A flash of panic. A vague outline of an armoured figure in the darkness then –_

Nothing. The spell fizzled and evaporated into nothing.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” Niall shocked himself with his volume as he yelled, “We agreed on Horror. Not -,” the memory of when he tried that with Torrin sent a chill through him.

“Niall -,” Uldred seemed calmer than he’d been all day, “It worked.”

“Oh shit, it did, didn’t it? It worked!”

Niall had to laugh. It _worked._ The implications of their breakthrough flashed though his mind. It was very exciting.

Uldred scribbled something in the margin of this notes. He picked up another vial of magebane, held it out to Niall, and readied his other hand on the hourglass.

“Again.”

Niall knocked back the liquid without hesitation and the hourglass slammed back down on the desk.

And so it went on. Uldred hurling stronger and stronger spells and Niall resisting them all. They repeated it over and over, trying to optimise their combinations. Magebane, gauntlets, dweoner rune. Lyrium potion, gauntlets, Spirit Balm. Cowl, Hale rune, Spirit Balm. Again and again. Over and over.

Niall’s mana should have depleted, except - it didn’t. He should have been exhausted, except he’d never felt more energised. He started to be able to resist even the briefest flashes of unpleasant memories. Instead, he could block them with happy ones. The spell would hit and all he’d see was a flash of Petra’s smile, of Leorah with her arms outstretched. By the time they finally ran out of lyrium – Niall felt like he was floating. Even Uldred was smiling.

“My boy,” he rested his hands on Niall’s shoulders, “This – you – are exactly what I need. And perhaps, it’s just in the nick of time.”

Like almost everything Uldred said, Niall felt like he was missing something but right now he was too giddy to care.

-o0o-

It was already late when he got back to his room but it didn’t even occur to Niall to try and sleep. Uldred might have hijacked it, but this was still his project. Once he wrote this up it would be a sensation. He’d be called to talk in front of the College of Enchanters. He could get that fussy, red-headed, linguist to translate it in Tevene. Maybe he’d get to visit the consulate in Tevinter. He took out his favourite quill and started frantically writing up their findings. Between Petra’s return and his research breakthrough, he couldn’t remember when he’d had a better day that this.

The momentum of his good mood energised him for another an hour or so before Niall succumbed to resting his head in on his desk, just for a second, and drifted off to sleep where he was sat.

~

_The woods had a faint purple glimmer, an indigo haze that wrapped around the blackberry bushes and exposed them as an arcane creation from his own memory. He made a point to pluck a berry from the vine, careful to avoid the thorns. Squeezing his hand closed, he crushed the fruit in his palm. Nothing here was real. He let the dark juice seep out between the fingers of his clenched fist and drip onto his tunic. His mother would be angry that he’d stained his clothes. Blackberry stains were a nightmare to remove. Nothing here was real. Maybe he should soak his tunic in the stream before he went home for supper._

_Except he couldn’t see his home. His house was just over the rocks, he should be able to see it from here. He couldn’t. All he could see was this patch of woods - the same cluster of trees and thorns and blackberry bushes repeating again and again in every direction. Was this all he could remember of the land he’d played in as a child?_

_The light disappeared across every repetition of the clearing he stood in, leaving only the one in which he stood. There was no horizon now - just the patch of dirt beneath his feet existed, encased in a void. He looked upwards. A patch of bright blue remained at the zenith of where he stood but beyond that even the sky itself had fallen out of existence._

_Then a deep voice rang out - echoing through the emptiness._

_“Niall the mage.”_

_The voice knew him it seemed._

_“From this place you came. This spec of nowhere to where you are now.”_

_In a flash the world around him changed. He was back in the Tower, in Irving’s office. In Irving’s chair. Except it was his now. It was all his._

_“Your mother always spoke of your potential. From the first moment you began to weave the magic of the fade, she knew you were destined for greater things. She was not wrong.”_

_He remembered it was true – she had said those very words ‘destined for greater things’ as she handed him over to the templars._

_Destined for greater things._

_Destined for greatness._

_“You are nothing now but the larval form of what you could be. I can show you true greatness. That which cloys at you from the inside, seeking permission to be set free. I can help you free that, Niall. You only have to let me in.”_

_He felt warm, moist breath caress the back of his neck. Then, slowly, he felt the tip of a bony finger trailing upwards from the small of his back, tracing his spine as though his body were a lock being picked open._

_He started to melt into the phantom touch - his mind pliant, just for a moment, until one resistant fragment of his consciousness broke free of the demon’s thrall._

_There came a frantic knocking against the First Enchanter’s office door, followed by the sound of Niall’s own voice screaming at him,_

_“Run.”_

~

He jolted awake, shaking violently. Sweat dripped down his face, sticking his hair to his forehead. He tried to stand but his legs gave out. He tried again. He had to leave this place, he couldn’t stay there. He had to leave. He had to get out. His heart raced as he steadied himself against the desk. The moment his knees ceased threatening to buckle he bolted for the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is chapter's early but I have added an extra chapter and this one was already written so, I guess, voilà.   
> I was nervous about writing a scene in the fade (I cut out at one point because I had no idea how to write it) so I hope this was okay.


	8. Chapter Eight

As the lingering terror of the dream began to fade, Niall felt his fear transforming into anger. He couldn’t have asked for a sharper reminder that for a mage there was no such thing as a good day, not really. The chantry teaches that demons are manifestations of sin. But his only sin had been taking pride in his work – why should he punished for that? Would a woodworker be forced to confront his own destruction for taking pride in a well-crafted table?

He forced himself to take a deep breath,

_Divine, Glory, Towers, Black, Exalted, Steel, Storm, Blessed, Dragon._

He felt like screaming at the injustice of it all until every accursed creature in the fade heard him – but he knew the danger uncontrolled rage posed. Especially with a demon lurking so close to the edges of his consciousness. Right now, plunging into a quagmire of self-righteous self-pity could be disastrous. 

Judging by the soft glow of morning twilight coming through the windows, it was too early for anyone in the tower to be awake. The tranquil wouldn’t even have started on breakfast yet. He couldn’t just wonder around waiting to be spotted by a templar. Neither could he stomach trying to go back to sleep.

That left one other place he could go – which was how Niall ended up in the chapel, on his knees before the votive candles. There was no one else around and yet those little white candles were already burning when he arrived. The orange flames still flickered even with no one there keeping vigil. They served no purpose, they had no discernible use – but as he knelt there watching the flames dance Niall could feel his heartrate gradually slowing back down to normal. 

Maybe he should pray, Niall thought to himself then promptly scoffed at the notion. He’d never understood the supposed point of prayer. If the Maker had truly left them, like the Chantry preaches, then surely no matter how loud or how often they sang the chant – it would always go unheard. He’d known mages more devout than any revered mothers, who told him they found comfort in prayer. But what comfort was there in muttering alone in the dark?

“Oh, I’m sorry, Enchanter.” the voice of a girl jolted him out of his blasphemous reverie.

He leapt to his feet, his nerves still on edge. He didn’t recognise the apprentice standing there. She couldn’t have been older than sixteen, her face was ashen, and her eyes bright red.

“Are you alright?”

She nodded slightly, not bothering to try to make her obvious lie convincing.

“Are you sure about that? Because the only other person here in the middle of the night is me – and I certainly didn’t come because I was feeling my very best.” he smiled playfully, his urge to comfort the girl overriding his own state of anxiety. 

She flushed slightly but managed a smile in return. 

“I didn’t mean to disturb your prayers, Enchanter.”

“Oh, you didn’t disturb anything. I’m not really the praying sort – don’t think I’d even know what to say without the Revered Mother conducting me.” As he said it, he realised it probably wasn’t an appropriate comment to make in front of an apprentice – but she seemed to appreciate the distraction.

“I say the Maker’s blessings here every day. Just – not usually this early. I had -,” her eyes dropped to the floor, “I had a bad dream.”

She didn’t need to say anymore than that. Of course, he understood. Every mage understood – but their bad dreams, like the harrowings, like the tranquil, were never discussed openly.

“Every day? Goodness – you must be in the Maker’s good graces.” he’d kept his tone light but the girl’s face still fell.

“If I was, He wouldn’t have tainted me with magic.” Tears welled in her eyes and it broke his heart a little bit.

“Hey, listen-,” he paused and the girl filled in her name,

“Keili.” 

“Listen Keili, you mustn’t think like that. I know, I know magic feels like a curse sometimes but there is nothing wrong with _you._ ”

“But there is, there must be.” the tears began to fall, “Why else would demons stalk my dreams? Why else would my family go white with terror at the sight of me? _Foul, accursed, Maleficar-,_ ” Her words devolved into a sob that wracked through her whole body. Instinctively, Niall grabbed her, pulling her into his chest and hugging her tightly.

After a moment, she stopped trembling. He pulled back, keeping his hands on her shoulders.

“Look at me, Keili.” He spoke slowly, “You are not tainted, you’re not corrupted, and you’re not foul. I promise you that, okay, I promise.”

She nodded but didn’t meet his eye. He didn’t know what to say to get through to her, only that he knew he had to. He desperately had to. He tried to put it in language she would understand.

“You believe in the chantry, don’t you? In the Maker?”

She nodded again.

“Then think about what it says in Transfigurations - _The one who has faith, Unshaken by the darkness of the world, She shall know true peace.”_

She was staring right at him now, attentive and wide-eyed. He carried on talking, not sure if, after his ordeal in the fade, if he was trying to reassure her or himself.

“Magic existed before the world was tainted. It was the Maker’s gift - not his curse. And trust me, I understand, at times it _is_ terrifying – but as long as you don’t let that fear shake you, you will be fine.”

The ghost of a smile appeared on her face and Niall thought it might be the first time in his life that knowing chant by heart had served any positive purpose.

Embarrassment spread through the silence that fell between them – both aware of the raw vulnerability on display.

“If you like, I can leave you to say the blessings now?”

“Actually, Enchanter, would you say them with me?”

Niall said nothing but silently genuflected before the burning candles. Keili did the same, then lead the two of them in prayer until the sun came up.

-o0o-

By the time Niall made it to the breakfast hall he’d already been awake for hours. He’d left Keili in the chapel for the morning service but he hadn’t wanted to stay. He felt drained, the kind of tiredness that made even raising his arms require extra effort.

He’d stopped caring about the Maker, or demons, or magic – all he cared about was black coffee and the booth seat in the quietest corner of the hall. He poured his first cup down his throat as fast as he could manage without scalding himself. The second cup, he nursed in his hands for half an hour, until Petra peered over the side of the booth.

“By the void, Niall, you haven’t become an early bird in my absence?”

“Perish the thought, woman. I merely stayed up so late that the morning rolled around again.”

“Ah, of course, makes much more sense.” She bounced down into the seat opposite him and pulled a handful of fruit from her pockets.

He watched her as she set off at peeling what appeared to be Ferelden’s stubbornest orange. The rind came off in tiny patches, sending a burst of citrus scent into the air each time. Petra tried a new point of entry with renewed vigour, only to overshoot and plunge her thumb through one of the segments, sending juice spirting right into her eye.

“Shite!” she said as wiped her face with her sleeve. Niall laughed.

“Mind your language, Enchanter! That dreadful language might have been fine in the Wilds but you have young minds to mould now.”

She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Don’t remind me – I start teaching today - ‘Introduction to not-setting-things-on-fire-by-accident’.”

“That can’t be what the class is called.”

“It absolutely is. I designed the curriculum, I got to name the classes.”

“Maker, I missed you.”

To Niall’s absolute horror, his eyes began stinging with tears.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Petra grabbed his hand from across the table, “You haven’t really been up all night have you?”

“Sorry,” he pulled his hand back to wipe his eyes, “Yeah, I have, more or less. It doesn’t matter, sorry, I’m fine. Just – I’m fine.”

He could read the concern on her face but she knew him well enough not to push it. They carried on with their breakfast. Petra told him all about her plans for her new classes, which made him feel guilty about how little he was doing in preparation for taking over Wynne’s class. She told him all about how Ines had already taken root in Greagoir’s office - petitioning him to allow her to start an aquatic vegetation garden in the littoral land of Lake Calenhad. 

“What even is an aquatic garden?” Niall asked.

“Honestly, I have no idea, but if it means her giving Greagoir a headache, I couldn’t be more in favour of it.”

By the time she left he felt significantly lighter.

-o0o-

With the whole host of new problems the last few weeks had thrown at him, Niall was almost relieved to stumble across one so familiar. He’d decided to go back to his room to carry on writing. He knew if he procrastinated it would only get harder to pick up his quill again. No demons were going to keep him from working. Still, he hadn’t exactly been in a rush to return to his room. So, Niall had taken the longest route back – and apparently the narrow corridor than ran behind some of the storage rooms was occupied. 

_“Ah, Ah. Oh Maker! Harder!”_

_“Ssshh.”_

_“Sorry – AH!,” and then, “Oh shit…”_

Before Niall had had chance to turn back, the girl with her back pressed up against the wall had noticed him. The man must have seen have the look of terror suddenly spread across her face because he put her down.

He straightened out his robed and turned around,

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” said Jowan.

And for a second, Niall thought Jowan was going to hit him. He realised the girl was the chantry initiate from the choir – which also explained why she looked ready to faint from fright. 

Niall held his hands up,

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, “I’ll just head past.”

“Wait,” Jowan’s scowl turned to something closer to confusion, “you aren’t going to make us stop?”

“Why would I – look it’s none of my business.”

“But you were the one who -,” Jowan cut himself off and Niall wondered what it was the man was too afraid to say.

“What?”

“You’re the one who told him about me and Lily.”

“Who?”

Jowan looked at Niall as though he were being deliberately difficult. The girl, Lily, kept her eyes fixed on the floor.

“What do you mean ‘who’? Who do you think? Uldred.”

It took Niall a moment to realise what Jowan was referring to. Then he remembered, few days ago, when he’d mentioned to Uldred that Jowan had seemed enamoured with an initiate in the choir. Was that what was going on between them - what the fight he’d overheard was about?

“I didn’t mean – I’m sorry. It never crossed my mind Uldred might have a problem with it. I mean, why would he?”

Jowan stared at him in disbelief.

“You haven’t actually known Uldred very long have you? I saw you at the last party but -,” dawning realisation spread across Jowan’s face, “but you’d never been there before.”

“No, I hadn’t.”

Niall wanted nothing to do with this. He did not want to be having this conversation. He especially did not want to be having this conversation in an isolated corridor, with an initiate, and an apprentice with a flagging but still very noticeable erection visible through his robes.

“Look – I’m not going to mention this. Not to Uldred or anyone else. Just let me passed and I’ll forget I ever saw you.”

Both Jowan and Lily looked extremely relieved.

-o0o-

When he saw the white corner sticking out from under his door Niall stopped dead in his tracks. He picked it up as he went inside, only he didn’t see the handwriting he’d been expecting.

_Tonight. Same time & place as last time. _

_U leaves tomorrow morning. Should be a send-off to remember._

  * _Z_



He had absolutely no idea who 'Z’ was but the rest of the note was unambiguous. Last time he’d obeyed a note left under his door, he’d had the excuse of curiosity. This time, if he went, he would be willingly walking back into Uldred’s den.

On one hand, Uldred had been fantastic. For a Senior Enchanter to put so much energy into helping his research – it had changed everything. A few days with Uldred had taken him beyond anything he’d accomplished with Torrin in almost two years. Losing Uldred as an ally seemed foolish and Niall was under no illusions that invitees absence from the party would be noted.

On the other hand, maybe he should quit while he was ahead. Niall wasn’t blind, he knew there must be something deeper going on. And even if Niall couldn’t put his finger on exactly why - Uldred frightened him.

He pushed the note to the corner of the desk and decided to make his mind up later. Now, he would focus on his work.

_It has been theorised in recent literature that the effects of magebane may not be restricted to the initial mana suppressant effect but rather extend to a secondary –_

He gave up mid-sentence when his eyelids began to droop shut. He put down his quill, laid down on top of his bed, and was asleep within minutes.

~

A loud knock startled him awake again. Still groggy, he opened the door to Torrin, who had clearly deduced Niall had been asleep and was eyeing him with disapproval.

“Maker’s breath, look at your robes.”

Usually when Torrin criticised him for being scruffy, there was an undertone of affection to it. Today, he looked mildly disgusted. Niall realised he hadn’t changed since the previous morning. His clothing was all wrinkled and at this point most of his left sleeve was a giant ink stain. He mumbled contritely about taking a nap then said,

Torrin did not mince his words. 

“What were you doing with Uldred yesterday?”

Niall stepped aside, Torrin strode into the room. When he slammed the door behind him, Niall knew he could bid goodbye to any hope of continuing his nap.

“So?” Torrin folded his arms.

“So, what? We spent the afternoon working on my project. Which you would have been there for if you hadn’t been-,”

“Conveniently out of the way.”

“- teaching.”

They locked eyes, both weighing up which of them was right to be as indignant as they felt. Niall had done nothing wrong. He knew that. He wasn’t in the mood to be chastised like a disobedient schoolboy.

“I thought we’d had this conversation already. Uldred’s been supervising me. _Helping_ me _._ What exactly is the problem?”

Torrin rolled his eyes and it may have been the sleep deprivation talking but it was the most infuriating thing Niall had ever witnessed.

“Oh, very mature. Look, Uldred asked if I was free to work. I was. I suggested we get you. You were busy. There’s no conspiracy.”

“Isn’t there? I just happened to be teaching then – covering Uldred’s class. It seems very convenient that his availability mysteriously never coincides with mine.”

“I know you’re accusing me of something – I just don’t know what it is!”

The volume of his voice took them both by surprise.

“Sorry.” he said straight away, “I’ve just – the last few days have been – trying.”

Torrin’s posture and his expression softened. Niall perched on the edge of his bed and after a hesitation, Torrin sat down next to him. For a moment, they say quiet, shoulder-to-shoulder, the tension still present but lessening.

“Sometimes,” Torrin started slowly, searching for the right phrasing, “I think you forget how much longer I’ve been a mage than you have.” Niall opened his mouth to protest but Torrin cut him off, “I’m not talking about magical skill, I’m talking about people. I’ve seen Uldred take a special interest in a few mages over the years – and almost without exception, it hasn’t ended well.”

Niall blinked, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing I know for sure, Uldred isn’t stupid enough for that.”

Torrin went quiet and Niall could tell he was holding back. He brought his hand to rest on Torrin’s arm, trying to communicate _tell me, if there’s something I should know – tell me._

“I do wonder about Karl though.”

“Karl?”

“Enchanter Thekla. He was a Libertarian, a loud one – but he and Uldred never saw eye to eye. No – that’s too mild – they despised each other. Then about a year ago – they both attended a gathering of the College of Enchanters in the Marches. Only – Karl never came back.”

“What?”

“Officially he requested the transfer to Kirkwall when Greagoir asked for volunteers. But – he wouldn’t have.”

“Maybe he did?”

Torrin shook his head.

“I knew Karl – he had reason to want to stay here. Like I said, there’s nothing I could prove.”

It was hard to judge whether there really was anything sinister when Torrin was being so reticent with the details. This Karl Thekla, who Niall thought he had a vague recollection of, could have had any number of motivations for wanting to leave. And Niall couldn’t see Uldred doing something so petty.

Torrin sighed, “I’d just sleep easier knowing you weren’t going to become Uldred’s next project.”

Niall bristled slightly at that. He knew Torrin meant well, the man just had an unfortunate talent for making his concern sound incredibly condescending.

“ _I’m_ not his project – my research is. He’s just interested in mental resistance magic. That’s it,” Niall wondered how much else to say. “Plus - there’s this apprentice. He’s – Uldred seems to pay a lot of attention to him. So, if anyone’s his project…”

He tailed off as Torrin was scrutinising him, mulling over what Niall had said.

“It really is just research? You’re not – it’s not political?”

“I’m not about to tattoo Libertarian slogans across my forehead, if that’s what you’re worried about.” he playfully nudged his shoulder into Torrin’s.

The tension drained away after that, with Torrin reassured that Niall wasn’t in any immediate danger. They’d been arguing a lot lately but it never seemed to last very long. Torrin had a class to teach in half an hour so they stayed on the bed talking until then. It had been a while since they’d had time to catch up. Niall had apparently missed quite the drama surrounding the new lead tenor of the chapel choir.

“I’ve never known an elf with such an ego.” Torrin huffed, “Which is rich given his voice threatens to crack on anything above a middle C. Some of us are convinced he’s really a baritone who only auditioned as a tenor because the lead was vacant.”

Niall just listened, smiling at how invested Torrin got in these petty squabbles. It contrasted so starkly with his usual stoic front as the strict professor who gave apprentices far too many assignments.

Torrin got up to leave, and as he did – he kissed Niall. It was only quick but it took Niall by surprise. Torrin was usually incredibly good at compartmentalising. If he came to discuss something work-related there was never any hint of the other aspect of their relationship. It helped to keep things no-strings-attached. Niall didn’t spend too long analysing, he put the kiss down to Torrin having been worried about him. He sat back at his desk, intending to continue working, but his mind was on other things. 

-o0o-

In the end, he decided to go to the party. Of course, he did. If anything, Torrin’s warnings had only served to feed his morbid curiosity. He did feel slightly guilty about that – since Torrin had been so worried about him. However, Niall felt he had to go - it would be ungrateful not to after all of Uldred’s help. The near certainty of the presence of quality alcohol was also a persuasive factor.

When he arrived, the same templar was at the door to let him inside. The whole experience felt far too familiar for something he’d only done once before. The only difference, he noticed when he turned the final corner in the caverns, was that there were only half as many people here this time.

Niall scanned the diminished crowd for Uldred. He felt a strange sense of déjà vu when I saw him standing with his arm draped around an apprentice. Only it wasn’t Jowan, that much was clear. This time his bony hand rested on the shoulder of skinny, elven girl who had her arms crossed tightly across her chest and her eyes darted nervously around the place. 

Watching Uldred sip wine and entertain his audience, it was hard to believe that tomorrow morning Uldred would march to join the king’s army in fighting darkspawn.

_Darkspawn_. That was strange in itself. Most people believed the darkspawn had ceased to be a real threat after the end of the fourth Blight. Now there was a war on – a war in their own country. But unless the horde rowed across Calenhad Lake and knocked on the tower’s front door – the mages likely wouldn’t give the war a second thought. It brought into sharper focus just how isolated they were.

“You’ll burn holes into the back of his head staring like that.” said an older mage, she must have walked in behind him.

“Oh,” he hadn’t realised he was staring, “I was – thinking about the war. Uldred seems calm.”

She laughed at that, “I’ve known Uldred for many years. I’ve seen him furious. Manic. Devastated. Exhausted. But I haven’t once seen him calm.”

Niall laughed, he could believe that.

They made small talk for a minute or two before the woman headed over to her friend. Before he had time to decided on the fastest way to acquire a drink-

“Niall!” Anders beckoned him over to the back wall.

Anders was huddled with a few others, around a flat-topped stone with dozens of open bottles standing precariously on top it. Godwin was stood behind the makeshift counter.

“Ah Ser Niall, welcome to Godwin’s Tavern, best bar you’ll find in this whole secret cavern.” it was obvious he had already sampled a significant amount of his own product.

Anders picked up his glass from the ‘bar’, took a sip, then grinned,

“Order up, Niall. I can recommend this -,” he sloshed his drink around, “What did you call it, Gods?”

“That’s sweet Antivan port, chocolate liqueur, cream and a twist of orange. I call it ‘The Lucrosian’s Purse’ – because it’s very rich.” Godwin grinned, clearly pleased with himself.

Niall laughed and some of the tension he’d been carrying in his shoulders all day melted away. This was just a farewell party. People were talking and drinking. People he knew. Uldred might be an odd man, but there was nothing sinister about tonight. 

“Got anything else? I hate port.” said Niall.

“In that case – you could always try the house special.” He grinned mischievously and Anders swatted him on the arm.

“Sshh. You can’t _start_ him on that. He’ll _die._ ”

Niall’s eyebrows jumped up into his hairline, “Well, now I have to try one.”

“Good man!” Godwin beamed and set off grabbing bottles, measuring out shots and pouring them into tumblers which Niall could only assume he’d brought with him purely to add flair to his bartending. Godwin started narrating as he poured his mixtures out into their final destination glasses, one for Niall and another for Anders.

“This is my greatest creation - cinnamon-infused whiskey, a measure of dark Llomerryn rum, and the secret ingredient.”

He reached down and picked a bottle off the floor. The label had been torn off and the glass was an opaque dark-green. He pulled the cork out with his mouth and poured a measure of viscous brown liquid into each glass.

“What _is_ that?” Niall began to worry Anders’ hadn’t been exaggerating.

“That is Valenta’s red. Direct from Orzammar. The dwarves call it ‘the Paragon of ales.’” he topped the glasses with a sprig of elfroot and pushed a now completed cocktail to Niall.

He took a sip and spluttered.

“Andraste’s ass!” he coughed.

Anders and Godwin laughed. Anders made a show of sipping his without a problem. Niall tried again, prepared this time. The dwarven ale was stronger than anything he’d ever tried. It was earthy, bitter, and the consistency of molasses. Despite that, it didn’t actually taste terrible– once he got used to the burning sensation on his tongue.

“Not bad right?” Anders’ nudged him.

“What’s it called?”

Godwin looked very pleased to be asked that.

“Well it’s strong enough to make you drunk enough to forget who you are so – I call it ‘The Rite of Tranquillity.’” 

Niall gawped at him in horror for a second before bursting out laughing. All the fear and exhaustion of the day seemed to leave him as he wheezed at the horrific joke. As mages, there was so much darkness they never dared speak of, so much fear. It was cathartic, for once, to hear the name of a terror spoken aloud and have permission to laugh at it.

He went to take another sip but someone behind him grabbed his hand and pulled his glass straight out of it.

“Ah – sorry.” said a shaky voice.

He turned to see the elf who’d been stood by Uldred’s side. She looked embarrassed but made no motion to return his drink.

“Uldred told me to take that off you,” she apologised, “He said he’d rather you stayed sober tonight.”

“What? Why?” Niall couldn’t fathom why Uldred would possibly care.

“He didn’t say. He said it’s fine if you want a bit of brandy or something. But no cocktails and nothing dwarven. Uh – sorry again.” she left as abruptly as she’d appeared, taking the drink with her.

“That was – weird.” Anders said.

If Niall wanted Godwin to pour him another drink – there’d be nothing Uldred could do to stop him. He had every right to grab the bottle of Valenta’s red and pour the whole thing down his neck - if he wanted to. But disobeying Uldred felt unwise. 

He stayed by the ‘bar’ for the next hour. Most people there came over at least once for a cocktail. Except Uldred. In fact, he seemed to be periodically disappearing from the party. Niall felt slightly peeved the man hadn’t come over to explain himself about the drink. But still, Niall stuck obediently to brandy as he watched the other two men become drunker and drunker. Godwin seemed to be alright but Anders’ looked one whiff of alcohol away from collapsing in a heap.

“Hey Niall,” Anders tapped him on the shoulder despite the fact Niall was already looking right at him, “Hey, I know I said I had a one-time-only rule. But! Exceptions. Can. Be. Made.” he punctuated the last word with a hiccough and brought his hand to rest on Niall’s thigh.

He brushed it off gently and laughed, “Ask again when you’re not about to keel over and we’ll see.”

The clinking sound of someone tapping a glass interrupted them. They turned to see Uldred about to launch into a speech.

“My dearest friends, for once I will keep this short since what is there left to say. You all know I leave in the morning. There is a chance I will not return. But no matter my fate at the hands of the darkspawn, the wheels are in motion now, so I will simply ask you to raise a glass and toast -,”

“To your safe return,” one of the women shouted and a chorus of raised glasses chimed,

“To your safe return.”

Everyone made their move to leave but before Niall had gotten up from his seat, Uldred made a beeline for him.

“Evening, Niall,” he said. Up close he looked incredibly gaunt, tried, “Once I’ve said my goodbyes, accompany me back to my quarters. There is something I need to discuss with you.”

Once again, Niall did as Uldred told him to. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right so, I have finally got the end of this fic properly planned out aaaand we're looking at 13 chapters + an epilogue. Since that's more than I initially thought - I'm going to start updating twice a week. From now on updates will be MONDAYS and THURSDAYS 
> 
> Hope the chapter was okay? Longest one yet! (and I hope you can forgive me for peppering in another reference to the Kanders prequel I haven't even officially started writing yet aha!)


	9. Chapter Nine

Uldred’s room had the same basic layout as Torrin’s - a four-poster bed, a wooden armoire, a coffee table and divan seating. The only difference was, Uldred’s room seemed to be devoid of any personal effects. Where Torrin would have half-read books stacked up on edge of his desk, Uldred had nothing. Torrin kept a small silver trinket box on his coffee table that Niall had given him last Satinalia. Uldred’s table was clear. He had lived in the tower for decades, yet seemed not to have acquired anything of personal significance or sentimental value.

The only hint that the room was lived in at all was a slender glass vase sat on the armoire holding incense that Uldred lit as soon as he and Niall had entered. Vapours carrying an unfamiliar, bitter, piney scent were quickly permeating the air between them. They lent an even stranger atmosphere to a situation that already made Niall uneasy. 

“Have a seat,” Uldred gestured to the divan, which was as uninvitingly pristine as the rest of the furniture. Niall sat.

Uldred opened the bottom draw of his desk to reveal an impressive collection of bottles. Without bothering to ask Niall for a preference, he selected a small bottle of port and poured out two glasses.

“Apologies for the business with the cocktails,” he said as he handed the glass to Niall and sat down beside him, “I needed you at least somewhat coherent for this conversation so Godwin’s concoctions were out. Why mages who deal with dwarves feel obliged to prove themselves by tolerating their liquor – I will never understand.”

 _Deal with dwarves-_ Uldred must be alluding to lyrium smuggling. Had he assumed Niall already knew about Godwin’s clandestine business ventures or was he always so loose-lipped with other people’s secrets? Niall decided to feign ignorance and press the point slightly,

“One sip of it was enough for me. I daren’t ask how Godwin even got hold of that on the surface.”

Uldred raised an eyebrow,

“Come, Enchanter – you don’t expect me to believe you haven’t noticed Godwin’s operation? He is hardly a subtle man.”

“I might have had suspicions.” he thought back to witnessing Godwin handing over lyrium vials in the corridor in broad daylight. Uldred wasn’t wrong that he may lack subtlety.

“Discrete he is not – but he is effective. Plus, Lucrosian’s make for useful allies. When it comes down to a choice between free mages or the chantry – they’re unlikely to align with the side that requires them to tithe.”

Niall laughed nervously, uncomfortable with the conversation veering into political waters. Not that that wasn’t where he was expecting Uldred to go.

“And there was me thinking Godwin was only there because none of the Libertarians knew how to tend bar.”

“Ah well there is that too. Spending all our time writing manifestos leaves little opportunity to practice mixing drinks.”

The levity took Niall by surprise. The last thing he’d been expecting from Uldred was self-deprecating humour. He had assumed Uldred would stick steadfast to politics. Surely that was why he’d asked Niall up here –talk of allies, free mages - this was going to be the recruitment spiel, Uldred’s attempt to lure him into the Libertarian fold.

“You lot do hand out a lot of pamphlets.”

Uldred laughed,

“That’s the legacy of an old friend of mine, unfortunately. His idea of direct action started and ended with distributing piles of parchment decorated in platitudinous slogans. No doubt he’s wasting ink on the same nonsense in Kirkwall as we speak.” He gave a fond smile at that last comment.

They fell into amiable silence, although Niall was still reluctant to let his guard down. He took a sip of port and watched Uldred as he did the same. Here, Uldred looked more relaxed than Niall had ever seen him. Not teetering on the edge of mania as he had been during their last interaction. Even his skin had more colour in it. Somehow this was more unnerving.

“You look well.” he couldn’t stop himself from saying. Uldred smiled,

“I slept very well last night. First night in a long time that my dreams were left uninterrupted.”

 _Lucky you,_ Niall thought as images from his own nightmare momentarily resurfaced. But his kneejerk bitterness over the nightmare he was just now realising he blamed Uldred for dissipated when he realised the implication. If these ‘interruptions’ that had been plaguing Uldred were anything similar to what Niall had experienced then it was no wonder the man always looked worn out. He thought about asking him but didn’t. He’d never met a mage who would readily divulge the content of their nightmares. They were shrouded in a morbid superstition.

So, another silence fell. Niall felt his patience waning. He had to be here because Uldred had something to say, so why wasn’t he saying it? For reasons he couldn’t fathom, Niall felt a petulant need not to ask outright why he was here. It felt too much like that was what Uldred was angling for, and Niall wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. So instead, he changed the subject to something else he was curious about.

“Who was that girl you sent to steal my drink?”

“Hm? Oh Kariela – one of my apprentices.”

“Is she your new protégé now that you’re pissed off at Jowan?”

The blunt question was the first time Niall had been able to catch Uldred off-guard. He couldn’t help but feel pleased with himself. There was something very satisfying about flustering someone so controlling. He could see Uldred trying to work out how Niall knew about his falling out with his favoured apprentice.

“Jowan was an ungrateful young man.”

Maybe it was the alcohol or the safety in knowing Uldred was leaving in the morning – or both, but something was emboldening Niall to keep pressing.

“You did seem to spend a lot of time with him. I noticed he wasn’t there tonight.”

“I invested a lot in that boy. And he threw it back in my face.”

“Is this really just about Lily?” Niall couldn’t mask how odd that seemed to him.

Uldred wrinkled his face in disgust, just for a moment, that returned to his practised neutral expression. But it was enough to confirm to Niall that this line of question was aggravating him.

“It hardly matters now – it’s been dealt with.”

 _Dealt with?_ Uldred must have been under the impression Jowan had stopped seeing Lily. Well, Niall wasn’t about to correct him on that. In fact, Niall had to admire Jowan just a little for having the audacity to lie to Uldred, that seemed a risky game to play. He must really care about this Lily. Niall tried to imagine what he would have done at that age if someone had told him he couldn’t be with Petra. He felt an uncanny urge to defend Jowan to his apparently prudish mentor.

“He’s hardly the first apprentice to break the rules around relationships. Aren’t you being a bit harsh?”

Uldred scoffed at the suggestion,

“I happen to think I’ve been very lenient.”

“Oh, come on – you’re telling me _you’ve_ never had your back up against one of those dusty bookshelves?”

Uldred scowled,

“I think I should have taken your brandy as well as the cocktails, Enchanter.”

“Evading the question, Senior Enchanter.”

“We seem to be veering remarkably far from the topic I brought you here to discuss.”

Niall could have punched the air victoriously – although he wasn’t entirely sure why throwing Uldred off his rhythm felt like such a victory. He had backed Uldred into a conversational corner. Niall lent back in his chair and waited.

“I suppose I should be getting to the point. You wouldn’t want to be here all night.” he paused, “Do you remember a soldier visiting the tower? A Ser Cauthrien?”

 _Did he?_ It took a moment for Niall to place her. She was the woman he had met in Uldred’s office and escorted to the guest quarters. _Oh,_ she had asked about Uldred.

“Yes, she was with the King’s army.”

Uldred seemed to smirk at that,

“That’s true. However, Ser Cauthrien is more directly under the command of Teyrn Loghain.”

If he had a point, Niall was missing it.

“What do you know of Loghain? I know Circle mages tend to lack even the basest understanding of any politics beyond the Tower walls.”

He wasn’t sure if Uldred shared Torrin talent for inadvertent condescension or if he being deliberately insulting. Either way, Niall took pleasure in responding,

“He liberated Ferelden from the Orlesians. The Hero of River Dane.”

Uldred almost seemed proud of him,

“I see you paid attention in your history classes.”

Niall had in fact paid no attention whatsoever to the Circle’s history lessons. He had, however, been born in Gwaren, where it was impossible not to know Loghain’s story. His mother would tell him bedtime stories of Loghain and the Night Elves to get to fall asleep.

Niall hadn’t given the Hero of River Dane a single thought in decades. It was just another reminder of the tower’s isolation that Niall hadn’t even thought to wonder if the man was alive or dead.

“I must have done. So, what’s the Teyrn got to do with why I’m sitting in your room?”

“I’m getting to it.” Uldred took an unnecessarily long sip of port, “Had you wondered why I, of all the mages in the tower, am being sent to Ostagar? Wynne’s a senior enchanter but she’s a healer. I am not.”

The question had never crossed Niall’s mind. He realised that he’d never once considered that Uldred was being sent against his will. He always assumed wherever Uldred was, it was exactly where he wanted to be - with the ironic exception of the Circle itself. _Although,_ Niall thought, if anyone had the means to escape the Tower if they wanted to, it would be Uldred.

Niall shook his head,

“Didn’t Irving decide?”

Uldred raised his eyebrow.

“Alright,” Niall conceded, “I think I assumed you wanted to go and fight.”

He seemed pleased with that answer. Niall could tell Uldred was revelling in the theatrical build-up to whatever he wanted to say.

“I have been corresponding with Teyrn Loghain for some time. He is sympathetic to the plight of the mages. Ostagar will be our chance to speak in person. Ser Cauthrien informed me that the Teyrn requested my presence there personally.”

There were infinite possibilities for what that could mean – some of which were terrifying.

“What exactly does ‘sympathetic’ mean?”

“That is precisely what I must go to find out.”

“But then what? Are you planning to usurp Irving?”

Uldred cackled then quickly composed himself.

“If I wanted that wretched title I could have had it after Remille was killed. Or anytime since then if the mood had taken me.”

Niall didn’t doubt that that was true, but it seemed reckless of Uldred to confess as much out loud.

“What then?”

“Well, what have I been pushing for all these years? More autonomy. Less chantry oversight. Haven’t you actually read any of our pamphlets?”

The joke was a clear deflection. Uldred continued,

“If the Teyrn is truly looking to aid the Libertarian cause, it is vital that I find out precisely what he is planning. If the Teyrn is determined to make changes I must be in his ear. I must guide him to act in the best interest of the mages. Wouldn’t you say?”

“I suppose so, yes.”

“So, you see – it is imperative I go and speak to him in person?”

Niall prickled with irritation. They were going around in circles.

“Uldred, I’ve already said yes, what are you getting at? What does this have to do with me?”

Uldred sighed.

“I have not been well these last months.”

That was not what Niall had expected to hear.

“Have you seen a healer?”

“I’m afraid it isn’t that kind of ailment. The problem is my dreams and the unwelcome visitors to them.”

A chill ran through Niall as he understood what Uldred was saying. It was not uncommon for mages to have the occasional demon infest their dreams. It was an unpleasant reality of having magic. But the idea of it happening every night, of a single-minded demon stalking one mage – it made Niall shudder.

“You’ve gone rather pale, Enchanter. Which I will take as signifying you understood my meaning.”

“I think so.”

“Then you also understand then, why I had taken so much interest of late in your work on mental resistance.”

Right then, a lot of things clicked into place in Niall’s mind. Uldred’s interest, his urgency, not wanting Torrin around – it made sense.

“Do you recall the book you were reading – the reason I first approached you with an invitation?”

Niall thought for a moment,

“Adralla of Vyrantium … “ _A Defence Against Dreamwalkers_ ”

“Precisely. I confess in your case I did not do my usual due diligence. You could easily have taken my note straight to Greagoir. But it was a calculated risk. I needed someone with expertise in the rather obscure area of defending oneself in the Fade.”

The irony did not escape Niall, that he had been besieged by a demon only the night before. Uldred must have been truly desperate if Niall was his last line of defence against becoming an abomination.

 _Abomination –_ even the word made Niall feel ill.

“Uldred,” Niall had no idea where to start, “I will do whatever I can to help you. But I’m not an expert in anything.”

“Niall, did you truly believe me brilliant enough to have taken one look at your research and solved its every problem overnight?”

Niall stayed silent.

“Well if so – you flatter me. I have been fortifying my mind’s defences for a long time. Your research provided a fresh perspective on what had become a dead end – it helped me see what I had been missing in my own work. And it also confirmed that you yourself are capable of casting powerful defensive spells.”

“Me? What does it matter what I can cast?”

There was a panicked edge to Niall’s voice as he wondered if Uldred had somehow used him as demon bait. He didn’t even know if such a thing were possible.

Uldred continued with his voice as steady as ever.

“Lately, one particular demon has been becoming more persistent. Within the Tower I have access to every available kind of defence. But it is _vital_ I go to Ostagar - this opportunity won’t present itself again.”

“So, you’re saying when you leave the Tower, you leaving yourself open to possession?”

“I do not buy into Chantry propaganda, that every mage is a walking grenade, ready to fall to possession at any moment. That said, I also I know the demons circle me much more closely than most - certain risks I have taken with my own work have all but guaranteed that. I would be a fool not to take precautions.”

 _Certain risks,_ Niall did not allow himself to wonder too long what that might mean.

Uldred stood and walked over to his bed. From underneath he pulled out an ornate wooden storage chest. The chest was locked with a seal Niall had never seen before. Uldred produced a thin pick and, with what seemed to be a combination of lockpicking and a spellwork, opened the chest. Niall watched as Uldred pulled out a scroll and handed it to him.

“What is it?” Niall asked, thinking it best not to unroll or do anything else with it without express permission. Almost every inch of visible parchment was covered in runes. Some Niall recognised but others that were far more intricate than anything he was familiar with.

“That is a copy of the Litany of Adralla.”

Uldred didn’t need to explain what that was. Niall had read about the Litany – the culmination of Adralla of Vyrantium’s life’s work. It was incredibly powerful. He’d had no idea there were copies of it in the tower. There had never been any listings in the stockroom that mentioned it.

“I have two,” Uldred continued, “One, I will take with me to Ostagar. The other, I leave stewardship of to you. Its power is simple to wield for a mage of the right skillset, which you have proven yourself to be.”

Niall ran his hand over the scroll, tracing the faintly glowing runes with his finger. He knew what the Litany was for, which begged the question,

“Uldred – why are you giving this to me?”

For the third time that night, Uldred cocked his eyebrow in a way that told Niall his attempts to plead ignorance were unconvincing.

“You need me to use this – if when you return to the Tower you’re-,”

“Yes.” Uldred cut him off before he could say it. But they both understood.

The air between them was thick with tension. Niall had a thousand questions but to most of them he suspected he may already know the answers. He finally said,

“You were right. I did need to be sober for this.”

“Quite.” Uldred said.

After that, what else could they say? They sat mainly in silence for a while as Niall processed what had passed between them and the gravity of what Uldred had asked. They finished another drink each until, at last, Niall moved to leave.

Niall, litany in hand, opened the door into the corridor – only to come face to face with an unfamiliar templar. The man moved quickly - grabbing Niall by his arm and twisting it up around his back. He bent Niall’s wrist backwards and it strained a way that made it clear even the slightest attempt to struggle would break it.

Without letting go of Niall’s wrist with one hand, with the other he unsheathed his sword and pointed it at Uldred’s chest.

“What are you doing out after curfew?” if his intention had been to sound intimidating, the crack in his voice betrayed him.

Uldred did not flinch.

“Let go of my friend.” he said evenly.

The templar responded by forcing Niall’s arm further up his back. The jolt of pain made him drop the Litany, drawing the templar’s attention to it.

“What is that?” he shouted.

Uldred shushed the templar and Niall was half-convinced he was about to get them both killed. Whoever the templar was he could not have been at the tower long. He looked very young and Niall didn’t recognise his face at all.

“My good man, people are sleeping next door. There is no cause to shout.”

The templar lowered his sword slightly, though the move seemed to be an unconscious response to Uldred’s authoritative tone. His eyes were still darting between the Litany to Uldred, unsure what to do next. Niall could feel the man’s hand sweating where he had hold of his wrist. He was sure he could wriggle free now if he needed to. He opted to stay still, not wanting to risk a skittish new recruit running him through with his sword if he tried to move.

“I will not tolerate Maleficarum – if this is evidence of blood magic-,”

Uldred shot him an indignant look,

“Ser Cullen, you are addressing a Senior Enchanter and you would do well to remember that. The item on the floor pertains to our research. Our only infraction is continuing to work into the night.”

Niall was in awe of Uldred’s ability to remain in control even with a templar’s blade pressed against his chest. The templar, Cullen apparently, released Niall from his grip. He muttered some anti-magic incantation, which had no effect on the Litany but seemed to satisfied Cullen himself, who then picked up the scroll. He scowled at the Litany as though he didn’t trust it not to burst into flames. Or start spitting out demons.

“I will be taking this to be examined by a senior templar.”

Niall’s eyes widened in panic. It confused him that Uldred did not seem equally concerned.

“I am sure your supervisor will only tell you what I already have. And speaking of, where is Ser Drass? This should be his watch.”

“The First Enchanter reassigned me here. Not that that is any of your business, robe.”

The attempt at an insult and caused a smile to tug at the corners of Uldred’s mouth. Though it disappeared fast when Cullen ordered them,

“Come with me. You’ll be confined to the cells until I am sure you are no threat.”

With the man’s sword still drawn, Uldred and Niall had no option but to follow him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was a bit different, with the whole thing being just one scene, so do let me know what you thought <3


	10. Chapter Ten

Last night, after Cullen had dragged them to the basement, Drass had appeared and ushered Uldred and Cullen away. That was the last Niall had seen of anyone until dawn, when another templar he didn’t recognised had shaken him awake and marched him to Irving’s office.

A sharp pain shot through Niall’s back as he took a seat – he was getting to old to spend nights laying on the stone floor of a cell.

From across the desk, Irving regarded him with sympathy – which pissed Niall off. The man had no right to look anything except guilty when he knew very well those cells were down there and yet raised no objections.

Before anything could be said, Greagoir entered.

“Ah good, you’re here,” he addressed Niall, “I’d like to apologise for the unfortunate misunderstanding.”

That was not even close to what he’d been expecting. Niall had lived in the Tower for decades and as far as he could remember that was the first time he’d heard a templar apologise for anything.

The opened his mouth to respond but he couldn’t think of a single thing to say. He had no idea what Uldred could have said to explain the situation away. He stayed silent, lest he inadvertently contract whatever tale Uldred had spun.

Greagoir continued,

“Ser Cullen has been informed of his mistake. He is new to the job.”

Niall wasn’t sure inexperience made up for the dull pain running from his shoulder to his wrist - the result of being held in a poorly executed wrist-lock for so long.

“Where is Uldred?”

“He left for Ostagar with the other mages this morning, as planned.” said Irving.

There went Niall’s chance of having anything explained to him.

“Where’s the li- the scroll I had?”

“The what?” Greagoir asked but at the same time Irving said,

“- Safely back in the stockroom. Owain has already logged it.”

Irving shot him a knowing glance but Niall had no idea what the man knew, or thought he knew.

Apparently satisfied that the matter was concluded, Greagoir left, leaving Irving and Niall alone.

“So –“ Irving began, “You were working with Uldred.”

It was a statement, not a question – so Niall decided to treat it like one and offer no reply. But the silence stretched on too long and forced him to relent.

“He’s been helping me with my research, yes.”

Irving was trying to read him – both men unsure how much the other knew. It was one of the problems with being so accustomed to leaving so much unsaid. Did Irving know about Uldred’s nightmares? Niall doubted it – there was too high of a risk of the First Enchanter reporting it Greagoir. But if Irving didn’t know the truth, then what did he _think_ he knew?

Or maybe it was Niall who had been lied to. Even though everything Uldred said last night had added up – that didn’t mean it was the whole truth. He felt a headache coming on just trying to keep track of all the secrets and agendas. He had never been more certain of his decision to recent developments aside, of course, stay completely outside of Circle politics. Maybe he should see if the isolationists had any pamphlets of their own. 

“It goes without saying that you should not discuss any of this with anyone else in the tower.” Irving warned.

Niall decided going along with whatever Irving said was the fastest way to get out the office without incriminating himself.

“Of course.”

“Uldred made his full report to me yesterday afternoon. Rest assured the matter is in hand. However, I do not want to act with undue haste. For the time being, we will feign ignorance until a plan can be put in place.”

“Of course.”

“Good. I trust your discretion, Enchanter. Good morning.”

Niall took that as his cue to leave, which he did as swiftly as possible before Irving could figure out he had no idea what their conversation had been about. 

-o0o-

He left Irving’s office in a daze. All he wanted to do was fall into bed and ignore everything, pretend there wasn’t so much going on that he didn’t understand. Should he go to Owain and try to check out the Litany? Or would that look too suspicious – like he was desperate? Or – if Irving and the templars believed it was part of his research – would it look too strange if he _didn’t_ go to retrieve it?

Then, it occurred to him that there was one person in the Tower who might be able to shed some light on things - Jowan.

Before he could overthink or talk himself out it – Niall set off to find the apprentice. He asked around a few people and eventually found someone who told him Jowan was in the apprentice dormitories.

Stepping into those dormitories was like going back in time. He couldn’t remember ever being back in there since he’d become a mage but it looked as though nothing had changed. They had the same tattered bunk-beds held together by wood riddled with rot, the same row of communal dressers and baths where they were expected to wash and dress practically on top of each other.

Jowan was sitting in front of one of the mirrors, meticulously shaving along his jawline. Before Niall had a chance to approach, he realised Jowan was listening to someone else – though he couldn’t see who from the angle he was at.

“I know he left this morning.” said a girl’s voice.

“You’re sure?” Jowan said but without breaking the staring competition he seemed to be having with his own reflection. "Ow, shit." he nicked himself with the razor and a single drop of blood trailed down his neck and pooled at his collar bone.

“I’m sure – I saw them go. Not that it makes much difference -,”

“ – If he’s on the way to Ostagar, he’s hardly going to be scrying to watch your every move.”

“Well that’s what it feels like.” snapped the girl.

Jowan paused,

“Yeah – yeah I know.” he lowered his voice, “But you’re in this now, you’ve got to let it play out.”

Jowan’s voice was barely above a whisper now and Niall, instinctively, took a step closer to try and hear – unfortunately, that meant his own reflection appearing in the mirror behind Jowan’s.

“Why is it every time I turn around lately, I find you lurking there?”

Niall threw him an apologetic glance before saying,

“I need to talk to you.”

“I’d better go.” said the girl. As she scurried away she kept her eyes to the ground, but Niall recognised her as the elf from last night, Uldred’s new apprentice.

“Well – I have somewhere to be. So, whatever you want to say, say it.”

Even though Niall understood why he wasn’t Jowan’s favourite person, there was still something jarring about being spoken to like that by an apprentice. The vast majority of them were timid, especially around the senior mages, which, as an Enchanter, he now was. Although, now that he thought about it, Jowan looked quite a bit older than the majority of apprentices.

“I need to talk about-,”

“-Oh, I think I can guess who you’re here to discuss.”

“Right, yes, of course. Well – it's that, last night, he told me-,”

Jowan held up his hand for Niall to stop, then went ahead rinsing the remained shaving cream and blood off his face and neck. He grabbed a flannel and patted it along his chin. He didn’t bother to turn around, he carried on talking to Niall’s reflection instead. 

“The thing is,” he finally said, “Uldred’s made it pretty clear he wants nothing more to do with me. So, whatever he’s got planned – I don’t know a thing. And anything I did know – it’s forgotten.

“He told me he’d been having nightmares.”

Jowan went pale.

“I definitely don’t know anything about that.”

Niall felt helpless, he didn’t even know what it was he was trying to ask exactly. All he was doing was reaching out blindly to someone who might be able to shed some light on all the weirdness he felt like he was drowning in. His wrist throbbed again. He rubbed it and Jowan clocked the bruise.

“Look – if Uldred started inviting you into his world then it would have been because he needed something. If he’s gone and he hasn’t left any instructions – he’s done with you.”

“He’s done with me? Just like that?”

Jowan nodded. 

It couldn’t be that simple though. Maybe it was. If all he needed was access to Niall’s research, which he’d gotten?

“Is that what happened with you – you’d served your purpose?”

“No.” he turned to look at Niall, “No – I was replaced. He thinks he can’t trust me anymore.” he sounded genuinely sadden by that.

“Because of Lily?”

“She’s a chantry initiate.” he explained, “He thinks – Maker, I don’t even know what he thinks – that she’s softened me? That she can’t be trusted, so I can't either? That I wouldn’t go through with-”

He cut himself off abruptly, the panic stricken look in his eyes told Niall Jowan thought he’d said too much. 

“What?”

“Nothing. I love Lily. And Uldred may be half-mad – but none of that means I’ve stopped believing in liberty.”

Jowan sighed then continued,

“If you want my advice – forget you ever had anything to do with Uldred. I trusted that bastard and look where it got me. He promised to get me safely through my harrowing – but he’s been delaying it now for nearly a year.”

“Why?”

“I honestly don’t know. And Uldred has his own, very particular, curriculum – I can cast some spells most Enchanters can’t but I haven’t taken any basic elemental magic classes in two years.”

“You need a new tutor.”

Jowan scoffed,

“I had worked that much out on my own.”

“I could recommend you Senior Enchanter Torrin?”

Jowan looked suspicious,

“Really?”

“He’s strict. He’ll catch you up in no time.”

“Maker, I – thank you.”

Jowan stood, looking a Niall with a much softer expression now. 

“I really do have somewhere to be, but thank you again, Niall. And I meant it, if you want to stay out of trouble, forget anything Uldred told you.”

With that, Jowan left. Niall lingered for a moment, mulling over the interaction. Taking Jowan’s advice, and trying to forget everything that had happened the last week, sounded like a very appealing option. 

-o0o-

Niall had every intention of keeping his word to Jowan about recommending him to Torrin – the only problem was that it would mean talking to Torrin, which would mean explaining his bruises, which he couldn’t do without filling him in on a whole lot of context. And Torrin got flustered if Niall so much as returned a library book late. 

Fortunately, he had a solution – Anders. Niall knew next to nothing about healing magic but there had to be something to bring the swelling down and vanish the bruises.

However, on his way to Anders’ room he was waylaid by a little boy. The apprentice, who looked about seven years old – came barrelling out of a classroom and collided directly with Niall’s legs, which were swept out from under him – sending them both flying.

“Clemence! Get back here now-“ Petra’s teacher-voice dissolved into laughter at the sight of Niall on the floor. She recovered herself quickly, though. 

The little boy – Clemence – scrambled to his feet and shuffled back over to his teacher. He clung on to the bottom of Petra’s robe and murmured,

“Sorry.” 

Petra held out her hand and pulled Niall upright.

“Say sorry to Enchanter Niall too, please.”

It was very odd hearing his friend sound so stern.

“Sorry, Enchanter.”

“That’s okay, kid. Just where were you going in such a rush?”

“ _Someone,”_ Petra said, “Didn’t feel like practising his arcane shield.”

“It’s haaaard.” he whined.

“That’s why you need to practice.” Petra folded her arms then pointed to the classroom door. The little boy marched back inside.

“See you later, Niall.” Petra waved absent-mindedly as she followed him back inside and slammed the door a little too forcefully behind her.

Niall had to laugh to himself, firstly because it was nice to have a little perspective – no matter how bad his day had been, at least he wasn’t in Petra’s place. Secondly, the fall would have made the perfect excuse for his bruises. Still, he decided to find Anders’ anyway. Torrin could always tell when he was lying, so the only way to keep quiet about everything was to make sure he didn’t ask any questions in the first place.

As he made his way to Anders’ room, Niall’s thoughts turned to his relationship with Torrin. At first, Niall’s only motivation for sleeping with him – despite just generally finding him attractive – was the challenge. Torrin was always so tightly wound, Niall had wanted to see if he could get him to let his guard down. It had only recently started to occur to him that on the days they didn’t see each other – Niall missed him. That realisation had been a surprise.

And now he was lying to him, or lying by omission at least. He didn’t like he thought of that. Which was daft in itself. He didn’t owe Torrin anything, they weren’t a couple. The only mages naïve enough to try anything like that were the likes of Jowan, those too young to know any better. Sex was fine - getting too attached was dangerous.

His ruminations were cut short when he reached Anders’ door and knocked as loudly as he could – figuring there was a good chance the healer would still be sleeping off his hangover.

Anders’ opened a thin crack in the door and peered through. He looked about as bad as Niall had expected, his eyes were bloodshot and he was still in last night’s robes.

Niall held up his swollen, purple wrist,

“I could use a healing spell.”

Anders looked thoughtful for a moment,

“It’s only Niall.” he declared.

Anders swung open the door to reveal Jowan perched on the end of the bed.

“I’m going to tell Irving you’re stalking me.” said Jowan, although he at least sounded amused this time.

“What’re you doing here?” Niall asked as he sat down next to him.

Jowan raised his eyebrow, pulling an expression that was eerily similar to his former mentor’s.

“If you’re planning to stay out of trouble, you’re going to have to stop asking questions you didn’t want to know the answers to.”

Niall held up his hands,

“Point taken.”

Anders was hunched over his draw, rummaging around in his draw for some healing poultice. When he found it, he stood up a little too quickly and groaned as a wave of nausea hit him.

“You look like shit.” Niall said.

“Oi! Do you want your wrist healing or not?”

“It’s not my fault you can’t hold your dwarven liquor.” Niall teased.

“Dwarven? Ah -,” Jowan understood, “So, Uldred had a leaving party. You know - I think the main downside of being excommunicated will be the lack of party invites.”

Anders groaned again as he knelt down beside Niall and began applying a heated salve.

Once his wrist had cleared up, he pulled down the collar of his robe and Anders set to work on his shoulder. They stayed silent as Anders worked. Clearly, whatever conversation they’d been having previously couldn’t be continued while Niall was listening. Nor did either of them ask just how he’d hurt himself in the first place. 

“Did you have chance to see Torrin?” Jowan asked.

“Not yet – I’ll probably see him later though. I’ll ask then.”

“Ask what?” Anders waggled his eyebrows, “You and Torrin after bringing a third person into your little arrangement?”

Niall and Jowan both looked equally scandalised and Anders laughed. Niall couldn't remember ever telling Anders about Torrin - although clearly he must have done at some point. 

“You’re sleeping with your tutor?” Jowan sounded slightly concerned.

“Ah we’ve all been there.” Anders shrugged.

“Wait, you’ve - ?” Niall shook his head in disbelief, “You’ve slept with Wynne?”

This time it was Anders’ turn to look scandalised,

“Maker’s breath – I, no, it was – before her.”

Anders went quiet again as he set about tidying up his healing supplies. Niall pulled his robe back on properly, the pain in his shoulder was mostly still there, but the bruises had cleared up.

“Thanks for that.”

“No worries.”

“Right well – I’ll be going then.”

“We were just heading out too actually when you knocked.” Jowan turned to Anders, “Are we still?”

“Sure.”

“Where are you going?”

“Niall – seriously? It’s like a sickness with you, isn’t it?” Jowan laughed.

“Right, right, sorry. None of my business.”

The three of them left Anders’ room together. As they did, the templar posted in the corridor made a mental note of it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Niall, he doesn't have a clue what's going on


	11. Chapter Eleven

The strange thing was, Jowan’s advice seemed to be working. With the exception of a few knowing nods from Uldred’s associates in the corridors, everything had returned to normal. Since Uldred had left, life for Niall had been a lot more peaceful. He had even gotten the hang of being a teacher. Sort of.

“Enchanter Niall! It’s bubbling over!”

“Shit – er I mean, not shit,” he ran to the elven boy at the back of the class who’s cauldron looked set to explode, “Shit.” he repeated as he tried to neutralise the spitting mixture with drops of distillation agent.

The boy looked panicked,

“Don’t worry – you just added too much of your concentrator.” 

Accidental swearing aside, he didn’t think he was doing too bad of a job with Wynne’s class. The best part was that he’d had a last minute pupil enrol. Since 'Intermediate Spirit Magic' was, well, intermediate – it wasn’t compulsory for the apprentices. But Keili had cornered him a few days ago in the library and asked if she could join. Apparently, spirit magic had always scared her the most so she’d made the decision to stop avoiding it and instead learn as much as she could.

Niall watched her – she had taken the desk right front and centre of the room. She had the kind of meticulous nature that was perfect for herbalism. He could tell that being one of the only students who’s Swift Salve was going to plan had given her a confidence boost. He had no such affinity for potions so he was still meeting with Anders whenever there was a recipe he needed to try out before the class.

Niall had even taken to tweaking Wynne’s curriculum. Hers was skewed very heavily towards healing magic which Niall was, in all honesty, useless with. Something that had been brought into firm focus when he hadn’t so much as been able to heal his own bruises. So, he decided he would be more use to the apprentices if he taught them things he was actually good at.

The rest of the class passed without any more explosions.

“Okay everyone, well done today. Next week we’ll be switching things up a bit and looking at mana theory. I want you all to read ‘Mana and the Use of Magic’ from the Lectures of First Enchanter Wenselus.”

He dismissed them and they filed out one by one.

-o0o-

Niall was seated in his favourite, secluded booth, halfway through eating his dinner, when Jowan wondered over to his table.

“I’ve just come from a tutor session with Torrin.”

“Oh good.” Niall set down his fork and gestured for Jowan to join him. Torrin had been reluctant to take on Uldred’s former protégé, which had been odd since he usually enjoyed collecting new students. But Niall had managed to convince him – pointing out that Jowan was a fellow chorister seemed to swing it.

As it had turned out, once Jowan knew Niall was neither sabotaging nor stalking him, they got along quite well.

“How did that go?”

“Pretty well, I think.” he said, biting into a bread roll. “Does he always sit chewing on liquorice during lessons?”

Niall laughed,

“Only when he’s frustrated.”

“Oh. Well in that case I think I’m lucky he didn’t hit me.” 

“He’ll get used to you.”

“He had this little silver box on his table, it was full of the stuff when we started. Think he’d run out by the end.”

They sat talking as they ate. Niall asked how his studies were going. Jowan seemed positive. Neither of them made any explicit reference to Uldred.

He also asked Jowan how Lily was which gave him a chance to wax lyrical about her. It was sweet how much he cared about her. Niall wasn’t going to discourage them – they’d get their hearts broken sooner or later, but for now they were happy.

“ – and she gets so passionate about everything. The other day, at choir practice, there was some kind of drama over the new tenor. I don’t really pay attention – I only joined to spend time with Lily. Anyway, she was telling me about this new lead tenor -,”

“Wait is this the thing about the elf they think can’t hit the high notes or something?”

“How’d you know about that?”

Niall laughed,

“I got the whole spiel from Torrin the other day.”

A pause, and Jowan’s face fell slightly.

“Sorry – I’ve just realised I've been going on for ages.”

“Oh, don’t worry. Is there no one else you can talk to about Lily?” 

“Not really – my bunk-mate knows I’ve been seeing someone – I know we need to be discrete.”

Niall nodded sympathetically.

“Oh, and Anders knows – not sure he approves though.”

“Really? He doesn’t seem like the judgemental type.” 

“He thinks I’m an idiot – for caring about Lily, so much that I’m willing to risk – well, everything and anything.”

He spoke with the conviction and romantic intensity that Niall believed only the young could – he wasn’t sure whether to pity him or envy him.

“I don’t think you’re an idiot.”

Jowan looked at him knowingly,

“I guess you understand – you’ve got Torrin.”

Niall was taken aback by that - he shook his head.

“That’s different. We’re not – it’s not like that. It’s just convenient.”

Although it hadn't even been that much lately. 

“Oh, right,”

Jowan looked embarrassed and focused his attention on his food. After a few moments of awkwardness, they switched to a new topic, and carried on chatting. 

-o0o-

The next day was taken up almost entirely by a seminar on advanced glyph theory entitled ‘Glyphs: A middle ground between spellwork and enchantment?’. Only the mages who were enchanters or higher were permitted to attend and Niall was very much looking forward to it.

A mage from the Ostwick Circle would be the speaker. Niall had spent most of the previous afternoon familiarising himself with her work – her most recent paper had made a fascinating read. Fascinating enough that he arrived in the room uncharacteristically early to ensure he got a seat.

He needn’t have worried. Firstly, because the room was nowhere near at capacity – apparently he had overestimated the popularity of optional guest lectures of niche areas of theoretical magic. And secondly, because Torrin was already seated in the front row.

“Morning,” he grinned, settling into seat next to him.

“Up early, robes ironed, _and_ cheerful about it – I barley recognise you.”

Niall swatted him on the arm,

“Well if you’re going to be like that, I won’t give you these.”

Niall reached into his bag and pulled out a tray of liquorice. Torrin’s eyes lit up when he saw them and Niall ignored the wave of affection he felt at the sight.

“Personally,” Niall teased, “I think they taste disgusting – but, I suppose I could just give them to my class if you’re not going to be nice to me.”

Torrin sighed then placed his hand over his heart,

“I solemnly promise to refrain from making any more comments pertaining to your scruffiness ... for the rest of the week.”

“If you can manage that, I'll get you some of the strawberry flavoured stuff too.” he handed him the tray – Torrin removed two pieces before putting the rest in his bag.

“You're on," he said, "You’re timing is uncanny too – I ran out of these only yesterday.”

Before Niall could respond, Irving was standing at the front, clearing his throat. The room fell silent. Torrin popped the candy in his mouth and Irving began introducing the speaker, thanking her for making the long journey to Ferelden. As Irving spoke, Niall noticed four templars all hovering uncomfortably close to the speaker – two that he recognised from the tower and two whose armour bore a small crest that he assumed represented the Ostwick Circle.

He felt a stab of anger splinter through his good mood. Why was the presence of any templars necessary – let alone four? It was a theory lecture not a practical demonstration of demon summoning. As she took to the podium to speak, he swallowed his irritation – trying hard to focus on her words and not the one Ostwick templar who’s hand never moved from the hilt of his sword.

When it was over, questions had been asked and answered, and people had begun to make their way out – Niall was accosted by Irving. He hadn't spoke to him since that day in his office. As the First Enchanter made his way over, Niall tried to keep calm, there was no reason to think he was in any trouble – if he was, Irving surely wouldn’t choose this moment to confront him – it was too public.

His mind had gone into overdrive so quickly that his sigh of relief was almost audible when he realised it was Torrin that Irving was addressing.

“I hear you’ve taken on one of Uldred’s apprentices.” he said in that very particular way he did that left you unsure if it was a question or a statement.

“Jowan.”

“Yes – Jowan. How has that been going?”

“Not badly at all. He is competent enough when he manages to concentrate.”

Torrin answered casually but Niall could tell Irving was scrutinising his words closely, there was nothing casual about his line of questioning.

“He hasn’t made any trouble?”

“No.”

Niall suppressed a smirk at that. He knew Torrin wasn’t being deliberately obtuse with his brief answers, that was just how he was – but it was clearly irritating the First Enchanter.

“Very well then, good afternoon, gentlemen.”

As he walked away, Irving gave Niall a pointed look – the meaning of which he could not decipher.

-o0o-

Niall’s string of peaceful days continued on and he settled into a routine. Which, somewhat miraculously, involved him getting up at a relatively early in the mornings.

He was halfway to the breakfast hall when Petra grabbed him.

“Thank the Maker - you’re up!”

“What’s wrong?”

“My teaching assistant is sick.”

Niall’s eyes went wide as he instantly understood. 

“No…”

“Please.”

“Petra – no.”

Ten minutes later, Niall was standing in front of thirty children, ranging from age twelve all the way down to five. They were clumped together in clusters, giggling and chattering and staring at him. The little boy – Clemence – who’d knocked him over the other day, had a glint in his eye that told Niall he was thinking of charging at him again. Subtly, he stepped behind a desk, putting a barrier in the boy’s path.

“Good morning class.”

Petra’s sing-song voice when she spoke to the children made him smile. The kids scrambled to sit on the carpet in front of her.

“Who can tell me what we did yesterday?”

A few hands shot into the air. Petra pointed to a little elven girl sitting towards the back.

“Wisps!”

The girl beamed with pride when Petra said,

“That’s right.”

That left Niall slightly relieved – spell wisps he could handle. If the answer had been fireballs it would have been all he could do not the sprint out the door.

The lesson went smoothly to start with. Most of the kids could manage the initial summoning even if most couldn’t maintain it for ever long. Then, things took a turn for the chaotic when one of the girls tried to cast winters grasp to freeze her wisp, missed, but hit herself in the eye with a shard of ice.

Petra rushed her out to find a healer, in a thinly veiled state of panic – leaving Niall alone with the class.

For a while, shushing them worked just fine. He had then sit cross-legged on the floor and wait patiently. But as time went on and Petra hadn’t returned, the kids got restless.

He let them talk amongst themselves.

One girl started to complain her leg had gone numb.

So, he let them walk around.

Which somehow turned into running around.

And screaming.

Until he snapped.

“Alright, alright, QUIET!” he realised he’d shouted a little too loudly when the top lips of some of the younger ones started trembling. Crying was the last thing he needed.

Then, he had an idea. It probably wasn’t the best idea but he was desperate and it was the only one he had so he ran with it. A game he used to play when he was a young apprentice.

“Everybody Line Up! You two -,” he pointed to two of the older boys, “help me move these tables.”

They shoved the desks to the sides of the room, leaving a long stretch of unobstructed wooden floor running from one end of the room to another. The kids were lined up against the far wall – all trying to work out what he was doing.

“Shoes off!”

They did as he told them too, looking even more curious now.

Niall cast a grease spell across the open floor.

“The aim of the game,” he tried to keep a straight face as he explained, “Is to take it in turns to see who can slide the furthest without falling over.”

The kids’ eyes lit up – wondering if he was serious.

“Who wants to go first?”

Almost every hand shot up into the air. Niall grinned.

“You,” he pointed to Clemence, “Think you can do _this_ without knocking us both over?”

The little boy bounded over to start of the runway Niall had created, and wasted no time taking a run up then stuck his arms out to the side for balance as he started to skid across the greasy patch. He managed to say upright for a second before he tripped and went the rest of the way on his knees.

When he fell, all the reasons this was a terrible idea played on a reel in Niall’s mind. But then he came to a stop and jumped up, unharmed and giggling and all those reasons were instantly forgotten.

“Not bad for a first go, kid. Back of the line! Next!”

A little girl with a comically determined expression stepped forward. And so it continued.

The inventively titled ‘grease spell slide game’ was a relic from Niall’s own childhood in the tower. He couldn’t remember which of the boys in his dorm had invented the initial game – maybe one of the older kids had passed it down. They used to push all the bathtubs up to the wall, cover the floor in soap and take turns trying to slide from one end of the communal washrooms to the other. Then one night, Enchanter Sweeney had caught them – only instead of chastising them, he’d suggested using the grease spell - and the rest was history. 

Niall smiled absent-mindedly at the rare happy memory as he watched the kids playing. Those kinds of memories were few and far between. It was strange to think that now these kids were seeing him in the same way he saw Sweeney way back then. It made him feel quite old, though not necessarily in a bad way, as he watched the kids laughing and playing like kids were meant to.

“What in the world is going on?”

The giggling came to a halt as one by one they noticed Petra had appeared in the doorway, looking a mixture of confused and horrified.

“Ah – Petra! We were just working on a new Creation spell while we waited for you, weren’t we? Grease.”

The kids all nodded in sync. 

“Right, well, I think that’s enough for today – the lesson’s almost over anyway. Do you all know what class you have next?”

They nodded again.

Petra made them help clean up and put the tables back in their normal place then sent them on their way.

On his way out of the door, Clemence flung his arms around Niall.

“Best. Lesson. Ever.”

He let go, looking slightly embarrassed, then sprinted down the corridor to catch up with the rest of his class.

Once the kids were all out of sight, Petra dropped her teacher persona and burst out laughing.

“Look at the state of you!”

He looked down to find his robe covered by a giant patch of grease from where Clemence had hugged him.

“You know you’re ridiculous, don’t you? I leave you alone for a few minutes...”

“It was longer than that! And it’s not my fault, Petra – I was outnumbered! I had to do something to entertain them or they’d have rioted.”

She rolled her eyes affectionately.

“What will Sweeney say when they all turn up to his class covered in grease?”

“What? They have Sweeney next?” he laughed.

“Yeah – why?”

“Oh, nothing.”

-o0o-

He honestly had planned to go straight back to his room and change his grease covered robe – but as Niall passed the dining hall and smelt the food cooking, he became acutely aware that he hadn’t eaten anything yet that day. He peered inside and saw his usual seat was free – no one would see him in the corner.

What he had failed to noticed was Torrin and Jowan sitting a few tables over, empty plates and open books spread out in front of them. Jowan caught his eye and beckoned him over to join them.

As he approached, they both noticed the state of his robes. Jowan laughed but Torrin was suspiciously quiet. It took Niall a moment to work out why – until he remembered the seminar the day before – when Torrin had casually promised not to make fun of his appearance for the rest of the week. This had to be agony for him.

“What happened to you?” asked Jowan as Niall sat down at their table.

He gave them a quick run down of the events leading up to his becoming a grease stained mess, all the while enjoying watching Torrin trying to keep quiet. 

“But I don’t look too bad though, right? I won’t have time to change before I teach my next class so… ” he goaded and Torrin finally cracked.

“You can’t be serious – what kind of example does that set for the children -,”

Niall grinned triumphantly.

“I’m not teaching like this, you daft sod - I just knew you couldn’t resist telling me off.”

“Ah – yes, good. Because you look completely dishevelled.” he reached over and gently brushed a stray strand of hair out of Niall’s face.

Then, realising how intimate the gesture might have looked, Torrin snatched his hand away.

“Don’t worry - it’s only Jowan.”

Jowan rolled his eyes. 

“As much as listening to you two flirt is entertaining – this _was_ supposed to be a meeting about my next assignment.” 

Torrin opened his mouth to insist they weren’t doing anything of the sort but Niall spoke first.

“Sorry, sorry – I’ll be quiet – carry on.”

They weren’t flirting though – _were they?_ Niall wasn’t sure. Over the last few weeks they’d spent a lot of time together, as usual, but now that he thought about it – that quick brush against the forehead was as intimate as they’d been since Torrin had unexpectedly kissed him goodbye the day of Uldred’s last party.

He was lost in his own thoughts as Torrin and Jowan fell back into discussing work. After a while, he stopped pondering there ill-defined relationship and instead found himself transfixed watching Torrin teach. With Niall he was always so fast paced and abrupt, they rattled through their material with equal confidence and enthusiasm. With Jowan he was going slower, explaining things, sometimes in great detail, until he was sure the apprentice understood. Adaptability – that was what made him good teacher, Niall thought. He started making a mental list of ways to become a better teacher.

He had been considering asking Irving if he could devise a class of his own once Wynne returned – but he wasn’t quite ready to give the First Enchanter the satisfaction of knowing he was enjoying his promotion to enchanter.

-o0o-

Niall’s ‘better teacher’ resolutions got off to a rocky start. It was the day before his class – that was how late Niall had left it before even attempting to check whether he was capable of brewing the ‘Spirit Resistance Tonic’ he was supposed to be teaching. He’d been very tempted to skip over it altogether until he noticed a large part of the final exam (which of course Wynne had already written) focused on it.

Despite the fact he’d eaten lunch with Anders and Jowan almost every day that week- he had forgotten to even mention to Anders that he’d need some help again until that afternoon. Thankfully, Anders was free and two hours later they were once again perched on a stack of hessian sacks in the storage caverns, watching a cauldron boil.

The tonic had been much easier than he’d expected, which turned out to be a good thing as Anders had been oddly distracted all afternoon. Niall kept his eyes fixed on the bubbling mixture and his mind wandered to his research with Uldred. He wondered why Uldred hadn’t suggested using the tonic alongside everything else. Maybe drinking it in tandem with magebane would have cancelled out its effects? Then he thought about the Litany of Adralla and whether a mana surge or a tonic would work best with -

 _No –_ he cut off that train of thought. He had made a conscious choice to leave the Litany safely tucked away in the stockrooms. He wasn’t going to sit thinking about it now.

“Leorah wasn’t thrilled about letting me use this place again – I think next time I might just have to risk blowing up my room.”

Anders muttered something noncommittal.

“Are you alright? You’ve been preoccupied all day.”

“Huh? Oh, I’m peachy.”

It was hardly convincing.

“You sure?”

Anders not-so-subtly changed the subject.

“Hey you know, while we’re here – we could always go for a second round.” he waggled his eyebrows, intended as a playful invitation only seemed was hollow, it had none of Anders’ usual warmth behind it.

“I’m not sure I’m in the mood today.”

“Well your loss.” Anders said, “Or maybe was Jowan right?”

“Jowan? What’s he got to do with anything.”

“He’s under the impression you and your Senior Enchanter are living out the same pathetic romantic fantasy that him and that initiate are.”

“Well we aren’t.” it came out a little sharper than he’d intended.

In truth, it had been weeks since he’d paid Torrin any kind of personal visit – it was the one thing that hadn’t gotten back to normal in the weeks since Uldred had left. Niall snickered to himself, he knew a lot of goings on in the tower could be blamed on Uldred but blaming his own recent lack of sex life on him seemed a bit of a stretch. Still, he wasn’t sure what the problem was – usually Torrin named time and date and Niall would happily show up. Lately – nothing.

“I told him as much.” Anders sounded wistful, “He’s going to get himself killed over that girl.”

“He’s just young – they’re in love.” Niall dismissed his concern.

“The Tower doesn’t let us fall in love. You know that – you snapped at me just for suggesting you’d been stupid enough to let yourself fall for Torrin.”

He didn’t know what to say – it sounded so grim when Anders spelt it out like that, but hadn’t Niall been living like it were true for years?

“Anyway, if he’s determined to die for her there’s nothing I can do. I’m only still alive because Irving finds me amusing.”

Niall was getting worried.

“What are you talking about? Is Jowan in danger?”

“The tonic’s almost done. Are you alright if I leave you to it now? Just let it cool for a few minutes after the colour changes then you can bottle it.”

Anders stood abruptly, Niall grabbed his arm, stopping him leaving.

“Anders what’s going on?”

Niall’s eyebrows jumped up into his hairline when, in response, Anders kissed him. It was brief but intense and left him completely confused.

“Bye, Niall,” Anders said solemnly, and disappeared before Niall had had chance to recover from the shock.

Niall was worried. There had been a weight to that 'goodbye' that made it sound very final.

-o0o-

The whole interaction with Anders played on his mind for the rest of that day. Once he’d bottled the tonic, he’d gone looking for him but without any success.

In the end, Niall decided to find Jowan first thing in the morning and ask him what was going on. They were his friends but Niall also knew Jowan and Anders were up to something he wasn’t privy to. He’d been happy to be kept out of it, but if it was something dangerous, that changed things.

That would wait until morning though – tonight he had something else planned. The second part of what Anders’ had said that had bothered him was about Torrin – and that, at least, he had the ability to do something about.

He knocked on Torrin’s door – hoping the man wouldn’t be too disgruntled by an unscheduled, nocturnal visit. When the door opened, he looked surprised to find Niall standing there.

“Fancy some company?” he smiled, holing up a bottle of wine, which granted he’d had a few glasses of tonight already. 

Torrin stepped aside wordlessly and let him inside.

He headed straight to where he knew Torrin kept a pair of wine glasses. He smiled to himself when he noticed the lid was open on the silver box on his coffee table, and almost all the candies Niall had given him had already gone. That included the strawberry ones he'd given him anyway, despite Torrin losing their wager. 

“There you go.” he handed a full glass to Torrin then lent in and kissed him.

Niall’s smile fell when he pulled away he saw the look on the other man’s face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing – I just – aren’t we were done with this?”

“I – what?”

“You lost interest,” he said, then abruptly added, “Which is fine.”

There held each other’s gaze.

“It’s fine,” Torrin continued, “It’s probably for the best. I knew from the start I was making a mistake getting involved with you.” There was no venom in his words, he stated them as neutrally as he would if he were reading aloud from a textbook.

“What do you mean? I never lost interest. If anything – you did.”

“Don’t be ridiculous – you know I care for you – I hardly would have risked sleeping with my student if I didn’t.”

“Oh come on, I’m hardly an apprentice.”

“That is irrelevant – you’re under my supervision.”

“I’ve been under more of you than that!” he snapped, not even sure what he’d said made sense and regretting having already drunk so much wine. This was not going as he'd expected. 

Torrin just looked sad as he sat down on the edge of the bed. They fell silent, neither sure what to say or what the other wanted from them. Once again, it was Torrin who spoke first.

“You’ve always been clear with me, we could work together, we could be friends even – but the physical side of things was merely a convenience.”

Niall felt the overwhelming need to argue the point – but stopped himself when he remembered he had said almost the exact same thing to Jowan only the other week. He had thought he meant it then – but hearing the words from Torrin felt different, cruel, and he realised they had never been true.

“If you’ve thought that from the beginning though – what changed? Why do we have to stop?”

“What does it matter?” it was the first time he heard a flash of anger in Torrin’s voice. “Besides,” he quickly fixed his veneer of calm, “You have other options to fall back on.”

When Niall just looked blank, he clarified,

“Anders for one.”

“Anders?! How do you even know about _that_?”

He felt a pang of guilt but he wasn’t willing to apologise. He hadn’t broken any rules, they had never even broached the subject of not sleeping with other people.

“Look – I’m not angry about Anders. If anything, I was relieved you’d moved on. It made it easier to end things.”

“Ten minutes ago, I thought we just hadn’t found time to be alone recently – now you’re telling me you washed your hands of me weeks ago. Why?”

“It’s not relevant-,”

“Bullshit. Tell me why.”

“Because I saw the note on your desk!”

Niall had never heard Torrin raise his voice before.

“What note? When?”

“The night before people left for Ostagar, I came to your room, remember?”

Niall felt his stomach tie in a knot. He nodded,

“I remember.”

“You’d left Uldred’s invitation open on your desk. I told you not to trust him. I practically begged you not to trust him. Then I got up to leave and saw _that_ sitting there. Turned out it was _me_ you didn't trust. If you did, you would have told me what you'd gotten yourself into.”

Niall just stared at him. 

“I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. You don’t owe me any explanations – you never have. But I can’t keep – uh - caring about you in the way I do, while you're determined to get wrapped up in whatever Uldred’s plotting. Whatever it is, it won't end well and I can't watch you do it.”

“Maker, I’m – I’m so sorry. But it’s over now. I want nothing to do with any of it anymore. The last few weeks since Uldred’s been gone, I’ve felt like I can breathe again.”

“You mean that?”

“Yes! And even if I didn’t – I’d drop secrets and politics and smuggled dwarven wine in a second for you, you idiot – you’re pretty much the only thing that makes living in this tower bearable.” 

The words took even Niall himself by surprise, as they tumbled out of his mouth faster than his brain could keep up with.

Torrin was staring at him in disbelief.

“You – I don’t know what to say.”

Niall kissed him again, and this time Torrin returned it enthusiastically. There was a desperation in how they moved – Torrin lay down on the bed with Niall straddling his hips. In the past, Niall had always taken the lead but tonight Torrin showed none of his usual shy, hesitation as he pulled Niall’s robe off over his head. 

Afterwards, they lay there peacefully in bed for almost an hour. They both knew they still had a lot to talk through. Niall wanted to tell him about Uldred, the Litany, all of it. He was also curious to know how Torrin had been able to recognise an invite from Uldred – he clearly knew more than he’d let on too. But that was for another night.

Finally, Niall moved to leave.

“You could stay, you know.” Torrin offered tentatively as Niall pulled his robe back on.

“I thought you said that was too risky?”

Torrin sighed.

“I’ll spare you the sight of my dishevelled morning hair.”

“I wouldn’t mind that so much.”

“I’ll remind you you said that the next time you complain at me for forgetting to brush it.”

He kissed Torrin goodnight and headed back to his room.

-o0o-

It was pitch dark when the door to Niall’s room swung open. The sound of metal boots scraping across his floor jolted him awake. Before he was fully conscious, he felt a grip around his ankle and he was torn from his bed. As he landed on the floor, something he couldn’t see hit his head and everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're heading into the endgame now, folks! Canon events are fast approaching - only two chapters left!   
> /// Warning - the next chapter is a lot darker/more violent, so the rating is gonna jump to M/// just a heads-up on that. 
> 
> Anyways, there ended up being a lot more relationship stuff in this than I'd planned - I hope that worked okay ?? Ah well, at least Niall got laid before.... well.... you know.... 
> 
> Also, did anyone notice where I got Clemence from?
> 
> Also, also, liquorice is terrible.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW violence, scars, humiliation

There had been three of them. Three that grabbed him. Brought him here. He had counted them as they led him through the tower, past the cells and then further – to that heavy metal door that in the darkness, that seemed to open into a hole in the earth.

They had jostled him down the uneven staircase, single file and shoulders still scrapping either side of the narrow stone walls. Single file, downwards, with two in front of him and one behind. There were only three templars that had taken him – but now, in his nightmares there were always so many more.

Or was ‘nightmares’ not the right word. Because he wasn’t in the fade. These visions weren’t spirits. They appeared when his eyes were open, entirely the fault of his own mind. It was concocting its own horrors just to have something to look at that wasn’t the blank slab of cell wall – like his mind was casting _Waking Nightmare_ against itself on a loop.

The cell was bitterly cold, the stone damp against his bare skin. They had stripped him of his robes, manacled his wrists and ankles, then by torchlight, they had inspected every inch of him. He wanted to curl up into himself, sink to the floor, hold his knees to his chest, and disappear. They made him stand up straight as they manoeuvred him like an obscene marionette. His arms and legs felt disconnected, too heavy and strange to his own.

They were gone now though. That was how come he could feel stone wall against his back and his knees against his chest. Although could still feel their eyes and fingers raking over him when he closed his eyes. The touch of stone was real, he told himself, but only that. 

He had not understood at first why they were doing this to him, what they wanted. Then, the largest of the templars stopped dead, stilled his sweating hand at Niall’s collar bone and barked,

“Is this one?”

The other two had lent closer to peer at Niall’s shoulder, which began to burn with three torches so close to his skin. Then, through the pain and darkness, and confusion he realised what they were doing. He had a small scar on his shoulder. They were looking for scars. Scars were caused by cuts and cuts bled. Scars could be evidence of blood magic.

He fought to pull together a coherent thought,

“That’s old. Years old.”

He could see the larger templar’s face twist in suspicion as another other said,

“It does look faded.”

He had tried to explain. That Petra had pulled a textbook from the top shelf when they were apprentices, it had slipped from her grip and landed right on him, its corner left the scar. They must have accepted his garbled explanation because their inspection of his body resumed without another word.

When they stopped, the largest templar slapped him on the back, a perversely cordial gesture. The man saw the look on Niall’s face,

“You know, it wasn’t my idea of good night either staring at your scrawny arse. But, Knight-Commander’s orders.”

Another of them tossed him a brief look that could almost have passed for sympathy whilst the third, who couldn’t be more than a templar-recruit he was so young, now had his eyes fixed on the ground.

As the three men went about extinguishing the scones on the walls that had given the cell a faint glow of light, Niall was frozen to the spot. He barely registered the lights going out, nor templars retreating back up the staircase, swinging shut the mental door behind them, and finally plunging the cell into total darkness. Then, without consciously registering the movement, Niall shuffled backwards, three quick steps in succession until his shoulder blades hit the wall and he allowed his knees to buckle and collapse him to the floor. 

-o0o-

Niall woke with a jolt at the sound of - it had sounded like a scream – but as his mind regained consciousness and registered where he was, still shackled in an unknown cell, everything was silent. Eerily silent aside from a slow, constant drip of water seeping through from above. He didn’t know when he had fallen asleep. Or how long he’d been down here in the dark. He was shivering violently, but there was so little he could do about it that it hardly seemed relevant.

He wanted to scream. Or to struggle, thrash against his manacles until he slipped free of them. He wanted to fight back. But alone in the dark, there was no one to fight. For a second he allowed himself to wonder, to hope, that magic might be able to help him. But even before he tried to summon mana, he could tell it was no use. The cell had to be covered in anti-magic wards and ruins, they explained why he felt so foggy, so alien to himself.

There was nothing he could do but sit and wait for templars to return. Which they had to, _didn’t they_? Panic rose like bile in his throat when the thought occurred to him, _they could just leave me here._

He willing himself to focus on something, anything else. Torrin’s face appeared in his mind, smiling at him as Niall had left his room, maker, that could only have been a matter of hours ago. The thought was incomprehensible to him.

Torrin, of course, Torrin. They couldn’t leave Niall down here. Torrin was a senior enchanter, and if Niall went missing he would ask questions. People couldn’t just disappear without a trace.

_Except,_ his mind supplied to taunt him, _don’t they?”_ A lifetime of passing acquaintances flashed facelessly across his imagination. Apprentices who had never become mages. Mages who one day were just no longer there, who must have had friends – friends who had understood that to survive in the Circle was to not ask too many questions.

Another wave of nausea passed through him. Anything else. He had to turn his thought to anything else. He would even take a demon for company over the thought that he would die here.

But no demons came. So, in the absence of all else, he screwed shut his eyes and, under his breath, began to pray.

-o0o-

The next time he awoke, it was to unmistakable groan of a door creaking open and the rush of light that flooded in ahead of the single figure now descending the staircase, torch in hand. By now, he was so used to the dark that the torchlight hurt his eyes. He tried to keep them open, not wanting to let the man in full templar armour out of his sight. His every muscle ached but still tensed instinctively at the templar’s approach.

When the man reached the bars of his cell he didn’t speak a word. Instead he nodded to Niall without meeting his eye and slipped a crisply folded set of robes through the bar. Then, he took a key from his belt and unlocked the cell. He stepped inside and released Niall from the manacles before abruptly disappearing back up the stairs and out of the door, which he did not lock behind him.

For a moment, all Niall could do was stare. Then some instinct kicked in and he began to move automatically. He felt like some external force was in control of him as he slipped the clean robes over his head and then slowly, as though he was afraid he’d hallucinated the whole thing, reached out his now free arm to pull open the cell door. It opened. And still without fully registering his own movements, he stepped out and made his way up the stairs and out of the large metal door. Once he was out into the basements he picked up his pace to a run. There was no one down there. He made it to the door that led back into the main tower.

The door opened into the foyer of the library and just like that he was back in his usual surroundings, as though nothing had happened. He stumbled forwards with no destination in mind. The soft light of the library at dusk burnt his eyes like he was staring directly at the midday sun.

A group of apprentices clutching their books bustled past him. Some of the kids were practicing shield spells in the elemental section under the eye of their tutor. There were bored looking templars stationed in every other doorway.

The weight of the normality began to make him feel dizzy. All that had happened to him was only the inevitable realisation of a threat that had been there all along, since he’d first stepped foot inside the tower as a little boy.

Niall’s chest felt too tight and his breath too shallow. The shelves and shelves and shelves of books seemed too high, they towered over him. And the ceilings were too low. And he couldn’t breathe. Another group of mages walked through the corridor, one brushed against his arm as she passed – too close. And he had to get out.

He started walking faster and faster, then reached the door to the staircase, out of the view of any templars, and broke into a run.

He ran to his room and swung the door shut behind him. For a second he felt safe before it dawned on him, this room was no more his than the library, or the classrooms, or the kitchens. The only thing keeping the templars on the other side of that door was that it was where they wanted to be. Niall found himself summoning the last of his strength to drag his armoire away from the wall – there was no logic, it wasn’t an affective barricade against mages or templars – but he pushed it in front of the doorway anyway. With the futile barrier was in place between him and the rest of the world, Niall’s legs finally gave out beneath him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have rewritten this rat-bastard of a chapter about 6 times and i still hate it but in order to carry on with the plot it needed to go up so - voila


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Niall’s friends made no attempts to whisper and the door did a poor job of muffling their voices. From where he sat curled in on himself at the end of his bed, he could hear them bickering over what to do. Niall’s finger traced the grooves that spiralled around the bedpost, up as high as he could reach without moving and then back down to the bed frame. His friends were bickering about him. He stilled his hand, then started to move his finger back and forth, over the peaks and troughs of the bedpost carving, feeling every tiny bump across the pad of his fingertip. 

“We could ask someone to break the door?” Leorah said. Anders scoffed.

“Oh sure, get a templar to burst in sword first, exactly what he needs.” 

“This is ridiculous.” Petra said, followed by a less-than-gentle knock on Niall’s door, “I know you can hear us and this is ridiculous.” 

“Dazzling display of compassion, Petra.” Anders retorted. 

“He’s been in there for two days.” 

“Well he’s new to the whole Tower of Tortures thing.” 

“He’s lived here practically his whole life. If the other night was his first run in with a sadist, it’s kind of a miracle.”

At the end of the corridor, the templar-recruit on duty shifted her weight from foot-to-foot, pretending not to hear them. 

“You two need to watch what you say.” Leorah said sharply, or as sharply as her naturally subdue demeanour allowed.

“A miracle?” Anders’ continued, his tone just as flippant but his voice lowered to heed Leroah’s warning, “In that case, maybe he’s shut up in his quarters giving thanks to the Maker. That’s always my first feeling after a trip to the dungeons – gratitude.” 

Niall could hear them but their words weren’t registering as anything but white noise. The only think that broke through to his conscious awareness was the absence of Torrin’s voice in the mix. Whether he was there and just quiet, or not there at all Niall didn’t know. 

Eventually, they left - Leorah promising to come back later with a plate of food Niall already knew he wouldn’t eat. They’d spent a lot of time lingering outside his door over the last two days, Leorah fussing over him like he was a little boy, and Anders – the story had come through the door muffled as Anders had told it barely above a whisper. They templars had taken him too that night. They’d search him too – for any signs either of them had been involved in the escape plan. Jowan’s escape plan – that had gone so drastically wrong. 

-o0o-

-knock, knock, knock-

The sound startled him awake with a jolt as the door swung open – but where Niall had expected to see Petra, her patience having worn out – instead he saw the unmistakable silhouette of the First Enchanter. 

Irving seemed so out of place out of the context of his office. He wrinkled his nose as he stepped forward into the room and glanced around. He ran his finger over the surface of the dresser and frowned at the line it left in a layer of dust. 

“The fetid stench in here confirms the report from the tranquil that you have not allowed the cleaners in for several days.”

Niall stayed still – clutching his knees to his chest and pulling the top bedsheet over himself – a position that had varied little during his few waking hours over the past several days. 

“You have been remiss in your teaching duties, Enchanter.” Irving spoke as they were in his office which only piled on to the absurdity of the situation. Niall tightened his grip on the sheet. 

“Senior Enchanter Torrin was gracious enough to cover for you yesterday, though with his heavy workload, you know that cannot continue indefinitely.”  
Niall continued his silence so Irving added, 

“Though I suppose he has freed up some time now, with one less apprentice.” 

At that, all the anxiety that had kept him silent, the fear that had stopped him leaving his bed, the nausea that had stopped him eating – all of it was subsumed by indignation at Irving’s casual acknowledgment of such a heinous circumstance. 

“Don’t you dare,” Niall spat, “Don’t you dare be glib about -,”

“About what?” Irving’s manner remained infuriatingly casual, “The demise of a blood mage. Surely, Enchanter, you would not have us mourn a maleficar?”  
Niall stood and met Irving’s eye, 

“Jowan wasn’t a maleficar.” 

“You didn’t see his stunt when he was caught leaving the Tower’s basement with his phylactery. Half a dozen templars did not collectively hallucinate the apprentice pull out a knife and use his own blood to attempt to flee.” 

Anders had left some details out then when he’d told Niall what had happened. He hadn’t mentioned anything about the basement or a phylactery – only that Jowan had tried to escape, and when it had gone wrong had resorted to blood magic. But still – maleficarum were living nightmares, less than human, conduits for demons that every sane mage feared, the accursed ones. That didn’t describe Jowan. He may not have been Niall’s closest friend but still, “One spell in a desperate moment doesn’t eclipse a whole life. Jowan was a good man.” 

“Maleficarum are slain on sight, Niall, you know that.” 

Then a thought crossed Niall’s mind and escaped his mouth before it had fully formed, “What will Uldred think – when he returns to find his apprentice slain?”

Irving laughed, “I am afraid it was Senior Enchanter Uldred who raised the alarm about young Jowan. He had had suspicions for some time, it seems.” 

“It can’t have been -,” he started, but even before the end of his sentence the protest died in his mouth. Because, of course. Of course, it had been Uldred’s doing, wasn’t everything? The way Jowan tensed at the mention of the man, he must have known he wouldn’t be allowed to leave Uldred’s inner circle quietly. 

“Now back to the matter at hand – you missed your class yesterday. Can your students expect you tomorrow?” 

Niall gawked at him “How can you expect me to teach after –“

Irving didn’t offer any help when Niall couldn’t find the words. Instead, he waited as the silence forced Niall to find the words that alluded him. 

“After the Templars dragged me from my room. Tortured me. Left me in cell. After they killed Jowan.” 

The hint of a smirk tugged at the First Enchanter’s mouth. 

“There have been Templars stationed in every doorway of this Tower every day for the decades that you’ve lived him – for as long as any of us have lived there. Where you under the impression that their swords were for show?”

“Don’t mock me.” 

“Why shouldn’t I? You act to be so naïve about the workings of the Tower but no harrowed mage can truly claim not to understand. There are aspects of existing as mages that are, by necessity, unpleasant. But rest assured, they are necessary. That you hadn’t experienced the brutality of our existence first-hand until two nights ago was nothing more than dumb luck.”

He paused to take in the expression of pure hatred on Niall’s face, his jaw clenched as he stood there with no choice but to let Irving’s diatribe wash over him and make his skin crawl. There was something cold and determined behind Irving’s eyes as he spoke – it put Niall in mind of one of Uldred’s speeches. 

“Thank the Maker that you’ve lived such a quiet life that the events of two nights ago seemed so awful. I believe your friend Anders has undergone that and so much worse so frequently that to him it would barely have registered as an inconvenience.” 

At that, Niall saw red. Without thinking he clenched his fist and summoned the dregs of any mana he still had after almost three days without food. Raising his arm above his head he hurled a shard of ice across the room toward the First Enchanter. 

But the spell was as weak as Niall was and Irving’s reflexes were sharp. The First Enchanter cast a shielding spell with minimal effort and deflected the attack by which time the relative of what he’d done dawned on Niall. 

Attacking the First Enchanter was probably enough to justify the templars being called in and Niall meeting the same fate as Jowan. Expect nothing happened, no templars burst in and Irving was smiling, having succeeded in provoking exactly the reaction he had intended.

“You see,” Irving’s tone was as calm as it ever was as he stepped closer and rested a hand on Niall’s shoulder, “You were not destroyed by what happened – it just made you angry. You’re a promising mage, Niall. Your friend the maleficar was not killed by the templars – he drowned trying to flee them. Our world inside this tower is harsh and despite what young Jowan wanted to believe, there is no escape from it that doesn’t involve drowning. The only choice we have, is to choose not to let it break us.” 

After a moment, all Niall could do was mutter, “Get out.”

Irving nodded and complied without another word. 

As soon as the door closed behind him Niall realised he was trembling. 

The next morning, he got dressed and made his way down to the breakfast hall.

-o0o-

For the whole day Niall followed the same schedule as he always did, teaching, eating, researching, clinging so hard to normality that he almost began to believe he was fine. Fine, so long as he didn’t meet the gaze of the templar always posted by the entrance to the dining hall who always lingered a moment too long on Niall with unsettling interest. Or the one on the second floor who had taken to watching him with pity in her eyes whenever he walked by her. 

When he made it to the dining room for his evening meal he has managed to avoid people all day. He found a table against the back wall, where hopefully none of them would spot him if they came in. The allusion of normality would shatter every easily if any of them asked him how he was. He couldn’t face them, Torrin, Petra, none of them. Not yet.  
Anders, apparently, was not to be avoided. He appeared at the end of Niall’s table. Niall had expected the man to be sombre, even grief-stricken – part of him had hoped Anders would be just as much of a wreck as he was himself, if for not other reason than to prove what Irving said about all Anders had endured wasn’t true. 

Instead, Anders looked almost giddy as he took a seat across from Niall. He took a folded sheet scrap of parchment out of his pocket and slide it across the table. 

“What’s that?” Niall asked rather than reading it. 

“That,” Anders was still grinning so widely it was unnerving, “Is a note from Jowan.” 

“What? But – how?” 

Anders shook his head in amusement, “I have no idea how, many the Maker intervened because it shouldn’t have been possible but - he made it across the lake.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am once again back on my bullshit <3


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Niall looked at Anders in disbelief. 

“What? He can’t have -” 

In response, Anders nudged the note closer to Niall, who picked it up and unfolded it slowly feeling like a child again passing notes in class, except now it was the templars who’s attention he didn’t want to attract. 

Scrawled across the tattered parchment were the words, 

_I’m sorry - couldn’t risk waiting once my suspicions were confirmed.  
Please, help L. Whatever is necessary. Tell them she was enthralled. Whatever will keep her safe. and please - tell her I love her.  
Be careful.  
Am heading to RC as planned. \- J _

Niall read the note. Then again, trying to process all of its implications - above all, the fact the Jowan had somehow survived the waters surrounding the Tower. A wave of relief came over Niall, followed by a giddy sense of victory by proxy.

“How did you even get this?” 

Anders paused for a moment, wondering how much he should reveal before deciding that there was little point in holding back, not when Niall already knew so much. 

“I have a contact, a few actually - the villagers that deliver the Tower’s supplies. One of them said a fisherman pulled a mage out of the lake, who begged him to pass a note on. And then when that didn’t work, held him with a crushing prison spell until he agreed.” 

“I thought any boats that got near the lake were covered in anti-magic wards -,” Niall started but trailed off when he realised, “But those wards don’t work against certain kinds of magic.” 

Anders muttered, “No, they don’t,” neither of them willing to say the words blood magic out loud in the dining hall, as though if they did it would jinx them somehow. Even after what Irving had said, and what Anders had told him - Niall still had a hard time picturing Jowan as dangerous. Then again, if you believed the Chantry, they were all dangerous - every friend, lover, teacher he’d ever had was just one lapse in judgement from becoming a monster. 

“Did you know?” Niall finally settled on asking the man sitting across from him. 

“I suspected, I never pried.” 

Anders looked ashamed to admit it but Niall nodded, he understood better than most the impulse to pretend you hadn’t seen something dangerous, didn’t know something you’d rather not know. That was why, right at that moment, Uldred’s parting gift - The Litany of Adralla - was sitting in the stockrooms, Niall having made no attempt to retrieve it after the templar-recruit had taken it. 

There were so many questions he wanted to ask, it was hard to know which to start with but for some reason the pressing seemed to be, 

“Why did he say sorry?” 

At that Anders’ face fell, his eyes dropped to the table and when he spoke it was barely audible, “Because we’d planned on escaping together.” 

The silence between them was heady as yet another piece of information that Niall had refused to deduce came hurtling into the foreground. How often since Uldred had left had he seen the two of them together, Anders and Jowan. How often had their conversations halted when Niall had walked over. 

“But what he did - the basement, the - the blood - that couldn’t have been the plan?” 

Anders shook his head, “It wasn’t. That was reckless of him. But I understand.” 

“The note said his suspicions were confirmed -,” 

Anders answered the question before it was asked, “There were plans to make him tranquil.” 

The words made Niall’s blood run cold - a sensation he was becoming increasingly familiar with. 

“We probably shouldn’t be saying all this here.” Anders said, “But I do still want to talk to you. Will you be able to meet me tomorrow?”

“Where?” Niall replied without hesitation because ignoring everything hadn’t stopped the templars torturing him, hadn’t stopped Irving taunting him or Uldred using him - maybe it was time to get some answers. 

“Where and when?” 

-o0o- 

The next day Niall headed out to the library, exhausted - he still hadn’t been able to sleep since what he had begun to refer to in his mind as That Night - but nonetheless feeling less jumpy at the sight of the templars. He had a class to teach, then a couple of hours to get some assignments marked before he was set to meet Anders in the caverns around lunch time.  
He also thought, with a pang of guilt, that he should go speak to Petra, Leorah, and Torrin who were probably all worried about him. 

The class went smoothly, with the exception of Keili who spent the whole hour with a wide-eyed look of terror gazing at him. When he dismissed the class she lingered at her desk for a moment clearly wanting to say something but not sure if she should. Niall wondered what the rumours were about where he’d been since he doubted the apprentices knew the real story. Or maybe they did, he thought, realising that even though Jowan was older than most of the apprentices, he had still been one of them - how many of his students had lost a friend now he was gone? 

“Enchanter?” Keili said sheepishly. 

“Keili?” he tried to respond breezily with a forced smile but it did nothing to ease the tension of the interaction. 

“I wanted to say - that is - I -” she paused to gather herself and settle on the right words, “I’m glad you’re back.” 

Relieved that didn’t seem as though she was about to launch into any questions Niall smiled for real, “Thank you.” He cut himself off with an involuntary yawn that had Keili looking concerned again, 

“Are you not sleeping, Enchanter?” 

Niall also snapped that of course he wasn’t sleeping, that he hadn’t slept for more than an hour at a time since That Night. But the wrinkled frown of concern on Keili’s face stopped him, the less she knew about what had happened the better, she was already fragile. 

“Don’t worry about me - I don’t think Senior Enchanter Torrin will need to cover any more of my classes.” 

“That’s a relief - he’s quite strict.” Keili confessed and Niall held back a laugh, 

“Mmm he certainly can be.” Niall agreed. They were headed in the same direction as they left and Keili continued to fill Niall in on every time one of his students had made Torrin exhale loudly in exasperation. As they chatted Niall didn’t notice he’d managed to pass three different templars without his stomach lurching. 

-o0o-

Sitting in the library, Niall got through marking exactly one and a half homework assignments before getting distracted. He was too exhausted to focus. He still had a couple of hours before his meeting with Anders and he was trying not to think too hard about it. It was needless to be anxious about it, all they were doing was meeting to talk, and Niall would get some answers about what had happened with Jowan - closure, maybe? That was all though, Niall silently chided himself - just explanations, no more schemes, whatever Anders was planning he wouldn’t get mixed up in it. 

His thoughts turned once again to his friends. Petra would be teaching all day as usual but Torrin would be free. Niall mentally ran through the other man’s schedule, surprising himself with how much detail he knew it in. Torrin used this time to work on his personal research which would put him either in one of the quieter study rooms on the first floor or, if he was working on a particularly difficult section of his new book, he’d be at the desk in his room. 

Except when Niall went to find him, Torrin was in neither place. Nor was he in the main library or the dining hall or the chapel. In the end, Niall felt like he’d scoured the Tower from top to bottom and the man was nowhere to be found. He told himself there was nothing wrong that if Torrin was missing then someone would have told him. Surely, they would have done, wouldn’t they? Anders or Petra - they both knew Niall and Torrin were - well, they both knew that if something was wrong with Torrin, Niall would need to know. He repeated the reassurance to himself, nothing was wrong, Torrin would just have found an obscure nook to read in in peace or was covering a class for someone. But the same thought kept creeping into his head - all the time Niall had been shut up in his room after That Night he hadn’t once heard Torrin’s voice outside the door. 

The search, though unsuccessful, killed enough time that Anders would probably be waiting for him in the caverns. So, Niall pushed his concerns about Torrin to the back of his mind and headed to their meeting place. 

Inside, in the same clearing where he’d had taught Niall to brew the spirit balm - and Maker if that didn’t feel like a lifetime ago - Anders was leaning against the stone wall, and he wasn’t alone. 

Next to him was an older elf who Niall vaguely recognised, she had her arms folded across her chest and her brow furrowed as she whispered, 

“Why does it have to be now?” 

Anders shook his head, “We’ve been over that already. Now will you -,” 

He stopped abruptly as they both spotted Niall approaching at the same time, the elven woman’s eyes were glowing softly in the low light of the cavern. 

“Sorry to interrupt.” Niall said and the woman glared at him, but Anders reassured her, 

“Niall’s one of Uldred’s.” 

His words seemed to have the intended effect on the woman whose shoulders visibly relaxed but Niall felt like he’d had a bucket of ice water thrown over him. One of Uldred’s. Was Anders just saying that so his presence wouldn’t spook her - or, the much scarier prospect, was it simply true?

“Okay then.” said the woman to Anders but with her eyes still eying Niall with suspicion, “I’ll do what you need.” 

Anders let out a deep sigh of relief, “Thank you, thank you,” he repeated as she coolly walked away. 

“So,” Niall teased after a brief pause, “You’re in high demand today - back to back clandestine cavern meetings then?” 

“What can I say, I’m a popular guy.” 

Anders was an expert at keeping things light and Niall was usually happy to match his cavalier flippant remark to flippant remark, but this time they were both too acutely aware of what they were there to discuss. The problem was neither man knew how to start. In the end, Niall bend first and managed only to say, 

“So, Jowan.” 

“Yeah.” Anders was still leaning with his shoulder against the stone wall, the relaxed pose such a blatant attempt to hide his discomfort it was almost laughable, “Yeah, Jowan - he escaped. He actually did it.”

Niall shook his head in disbelief. The news that Jowan was dead had hit him harder than he could rationalise. They weren’t close but Niall recognised something in Jowan, there was a light in him, a willingness to be vulnerable, to fall so deeply in love with Lily, to let himself truly believe in something - even if that something, namely Uldred, had led to his destruction. To Niall, Jowan hadn’t been a mage broken by the Tower, he had been a man still wholly intact. And perhaps it was the wrong thing to be happy about, after all Niall knew that the proper thing to feel at the death of a blood mage was relief - but when he’d read Jowan’s note and learned he’d survived, Niall could have wept with joy. 

“I’ve gotta say I expected you to have more questions at the ready.” Anders prompted, “You know - maybe Anders, did you really not know he was a blood mage? Well, the short answer is ‘no’, I didn’t know. Did you?” 

The question surprised Niall, “No, no of course not.” 

“If you had would you have reported it - to Irving?” 

He hadn’t considered that. Would he? After a moment he settled on the honest answer, “I don’t know.” 

“Me neither,” Anders mused as he strolled across the clearing and sat down on the edge of one of the wooden crates. Then, he reached behind it and pulled out a cobweb covered bottle of firewhiskey, pulled the cork out and took a very large gulp before holding it out to Niall. 

“No, thanks.” 

Anders shrugged and took a second drink. 

“I’ve got bottles hidden all over the Tower. Food too - actually it’s mostly food. There’s a tin of canned something under a loose floor tile in the apprentice dormitory that’s been there for over ten years. Wouldn’t even open it now if you paid me, let alone eat whatever’s inside - but somehow just knowing it’s there, that still no one’s found it - makes me feel better.”

Niall moved over to him, sitting down on the crate next to him and only then was he close enough to realise that half of the bottle was already empty. 

“How much have you drunk?” 

Anders laughed, “Don’t you worry about me, I can hold my firewhiskey. I’m just trying to use up everything while I have the chance, can’t take it with me.” 

“You mean you’re planning to escape again?” Niall asked, then added, “escape the Tower?” He didn’t even want to imply any other kind of escape that Anders might be contemplating, the all too common kind at Kinloch. 

“I’ve gotten out six times, you know. Has to be a record, surely.” Niall was tempted to interrupt but thought better of it, whatever Anders’ was leading to was clearly something he needed to say. 

“The first time I was really young, I hadn’t planned it, I just wanted to go home - which was obvious to even the templars because they very kindly decided not to run a sword through me when they found me. I got smarter after that though, really did start planning. At first it was a distraction, a puzzle, hypothetically, how would I escape? Whenever bad things were happening that’s what I’d think about, escaping. A lot of bad things happened and so I spent a lot of time planning, so much time that the plan became workable and without ever really making a conscious decision to - I was plotting a real escape. And I got out. But they brought me back. Over and over they brought me back.”

“I had wondered about that,” Niall confessed, “why did they keep on -,”

“-not just killing me?” Anders bared his teeth in a perverse smirk, “Irving. Even now, I don’t know what he said or who he said it to but every time I got caught they just sent me back to my classes with a slap on wrist like nothing had happened. I was wary at first, I was young, defenceless and not bad looking - I seemed pretty obvious what Irving wanted from me.” 

Niall felt sick and it must have shown in his expression because Anders clarified quickly, 

“It wasn’t that. Irving never - he never did anything like that. But I’ve always wondered why he protected me, you know Irving and he isn’t exactly a bleeding heart.”

“No,” Niall agreed, thinking back on his last interaction with the First Enchanter, “no, he isn’t.” 

Anders offered him the bottle again and this time Niall took it. 

“Whatever it was, it doesn’t matter now anyway. His patience ran out.”

“How do you mean?” Niall passed back the bottle.

“The last time I got out wasn’t really like the rest. There was no plan- it was more of a mania. I’d spilt orange juice on my robe that morning and one of the tranquil gave me an apprentice robe to wear while they washed it. Then I saw a group of apprentices being led outside for their outdoor exercise. I don’t remember my thought process, I don’t think there was one really - but I tagged along at the back of their group and the second we got outside I just - ran. I ran to the edge of the dock and before any of the templars had a chance to react, I dove in.”

“You swam to shore?” 

Anders looked at the floor, “Not right away. At first, I shut my eyes and just - let myself sink. I thought the templars would be seconds behind me. I thought I’d feel one of them grab me by the ankle and haul me back to dry land. I think - I think I thought if I drowned before they got to me then they’d have gotten wet for nothing jumping in after me. It was quite peaceful really, closing my eyes and imagining that my last act would be to annoy the templars.” 

Anders paused and Niall’s instinct was to reach out, place a hand on the other man’s shoulder, do anything to offer a shred of comfort - but he worried making any sort of movement might interrupt his story, so instead, he sat deathly still and let Anders continue. 

“It felt like an age but at some point, as I was sinking, it dawned on me that there were no templars grabbing me, no disturbance in the water to indicate any of them had bothered to jump in after me. And then I do remember thinking, I remember so clearly thinking that I wasn’t about to die if the templars on duty hadn’t even had to get their feet wet. So, I started to swim. And I’m a very good swimmer. I got to shore, found a merchant wagon heading to Denerim. I hid in the back. There didn’t seem much point in hiding, I knew it was only a matter of time before the templars tracked me so I didn’t really bother hiding. I got a room at one of the brothels in exchange for setting up a few protective wards for the owner. I drank myself blind and taught the girl’s there a couple of tricks for a few days until the Templars inevitably came.” 

After his last escape, Anders had been locked in solitary confinement, Niall knew that much and it sounded unimaginable. Anders finished the last dregs of whiskey and went on, 

“They marched me back - of course. And then I was back in the Tower, standing in front of Irving and Gregoire and four other templars. Gregoire knew Irving always vouched for me - so ordered them to flog me, I almost laughed - it was a lot less creative than everything they’d inflicted on the journey back. But then Irving cleared his throat and - it was him that ordered them to put me in solitary confinement. Then, he asked for a moment alone with me before they took me and when it was just us he only looked at me and said “That was the last time. Try this again, I would stand between you and their blades.” I didn’t speak to another mage after that for over a year.”

They hadn’t made eye contact once throughout Anders’ story. Niall couldn’t begin to imagine what he’d been through. Rage filled him as he remembered Irving’s taunting about how used to torture Anders must be by now - how he could have said something like that after it had been him that had given the order. It was sick. That thought broke Niall’s last resolve and he found himself leaning across and draping an arm around Anders, pulling him into a hug. It was a simple gesture but so unexpected, especially from Niall, that Anders laughed, which made Niall laugh too at the absurdity of the whole situation, of their whole lives. 

When they finally broke apart Anders had almost managed to snap back into his usual persona, “Ooft, I got a bit heavy there - sorry about that.” 

“We did get slightly off track from talking about Jowan.” Niall smiled reassuringly and it reminded Anders of the reason he had started his story, 

“Oh,” he exclaimed, making Niall jump, “That was my point. Irving’s done protecting me. So - the next time I get out it has to be for good because if it isn’t -.” Niall didn’t need him to finish the sentence to know what Anders was saying, success or failure, his outcome of his next escape attempt would be permanent. 

“And your next attempt was going to be with Jowan?” 

“Right,” Anders nodded, “only he went rogue. Which, again, I don’t blame him for - but it’s left me with a dilemma because originally the plan needed had three people. But Jowan’s gone and poor Lily - anyway, I’m not sure it could work with only me. But, maybe if -,” 

Anders met Niall’s gaze with a mixture of sincerity and desperation in his eyes so intense that Niall could feel it burning into his skin. 

“Wait - you can’t be serious? Me!?” 

“My problem was always that I never thought through what to do after I’d escaped, not in enough detail. But I told you before, when bad things happen I distract myself with planning - and I spent a year in that cell and there was a lot to distract from so I focused on planning how to stay escaped next time. I’ve thought the whole thing through, where we’ll go, how we’ll get there, all of it. The actual logistics of getting out of the Tower I only came up with later, after Jowan and Lily got involved.”

“Couldn’t you come up with something else? Now that it's just you?” 

Anders shook his head, “There’s no time, part of the plan involves getting from Redcliffe Village to Amaranthine - and for it to work, I need to be in Redcliffe Village this time next week.” 

Niall felt like he might throw up. 

“Look,” Anders said, sounding more sober than he had the whole time so far, “It's riskier if I’m on my own but it would probably still work. If you don’t want to come with me then don’t, it won’t mean you’re signing my death sentence or anything. But think about it, Niall, because there’s a chance here to make a life outside of this Tower. So, what do you think, Enchanter? Do you fancy taking a shot at freedom?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooft this one ended up longer than I expected. Seems like the block I had writing the last couple of chapters is over though *fingers crossed*


End file.
